


The King's Loyal Mutt

by KitKatKatieKat



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ardyn Izunia Being An Asshole, As an Aro/Ace person the line between platonic and romantic relationships is confusing, Collars, Crucifixion, Electrocution, F/M, Gen, Hurt Ignis Scientia, Hurt Noctis Lucis Caelum, Kidnapping, M/M, Restraints, Romance isn't really the main focus here, Sort Of, Spoilers, The important part here is the torture, Torture, Whump, You can honestly read some PromptGlad in here as well, you can read this as LuNoct or IgNoct
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26914660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitKatKatieKat/pseuds/KitKatKatieKat
Summary: The battle of the Hydrean did not go according to plan. Or, at least not Noctis's plan. To the Empire, it went swimmingly.With the Oracle dead, the Chosen King captured, and a new wall around Niflheim, will the Empire succeed in spreading their darkness around the world?(Or: The Empire captures Noctis and Ignis and forces Noct to use the ring to serve Nifleheim)
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 12
Kudos: 160





	1. Glory Bound

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, so I usually never post anything because I'm afraid of criticism, but I want to try something new.
> 
> I don't really know where this story is going, I'm just gonna see where it takes me. 
> 
> If you like it, please say so! Begging for new chapters is appreciated! The progress of this story depends on audience participation!
> 
> Thank you, and please enjoy! :)

Ardyn had always loved the smell of the seaside. Something about the salty freshness with just a hint of foreboding, it made him want to curl up with a book by the fireplace. And now, with the scent of blood on the air, it was practically paradise. He should really visit Altissia more often. 

Too late now, he supposed.

With a bounce to his step, Ardyn approached the limp corpse of the oracle and the chosen king. Even in death, she clutched him like a teddy bear. Had the young king been awake, he probably would have been blushing hysterically.

Faintly, Ardyn was aware of the king's chamberlain. (Ignis, was that his name?) He was screaming, scrambling to escape the iron clutches of the MTs that pinned him to the ground.  _ What a loyal doggie _ , Ardyn thought.

Oh, how he wished to bash his little head in.

But alas, even the most annoying mutts could serve a purpose. In this case, that purpose was far too important to ignore. So unfortunately, the chamberlain would be kept alive. For now.

Ardyn shook off his aggravation, letting a devilish grin stretch across his face. Today was a day for celebration! He couldn't let it be spoiled by a mongrel's insolent whining. 

Humming an ancient tune, Ardyn knelt down to get a closer look at the would-be king. He was soaking wet and shivering, uncomfortable even in unconsciousness. How wonderful.

His skin, while caked in dirt and blood, was unmarred by nicks and scars. It was porcelain, so delicate, so...

Breakable.

For a moment, Ardyn lost himself, running the back of his hand along the boy's cheek. Then without warning, he came down with a brutal slap onto that porcelain face, the sound of skin hitting skin like a gunshot in the silence of the altar. The king did not stir.

Again, Ardyn could hear the mutt shouting. No doubt it was a protest to his treatment of the little king's face. The chancellor ignored it, his attention turning towards a different prize. One of the King's hands was balled into a fist, clenched so tightly that Ardyn struggled a bit to get it open. When the boy's grip finally did loosen, Ardyn grabbed his reward.

The Ring Of The Lucii. 

He pocketed the ring, ignoring the almost hypnotizing urge to put it on and claim its power for himself. No, Ardyn knew the ring would not bow to him, as much as that burned him up inside. He needed the ring for another purpose.

Satisfied with his findings, Ardyn raised a hand to the air, signaling to the MTs that it was time to commence with the next part of their plan. At once, the robotic soldiers came forward. They swarmed the king's limp form, dragging him up with no regards to the princess's corpse mere centimeters away.

They were robots after all; how could they understand things such as respect for the deceased? 

Once the MTs had secured the young king and were making their way back to the drop ship, Ardyn allowed himself to focus on their other guest.

The chamberlain doggie still hadn't quieted down, screaming for his unconscious king to fight back. How pathetic, that the supposed protector of the crown was reduced to this quivering mutt. Ardyn crouched down in front of the chamberlain's face, flashing his cruelest smile.

"What a shame," he teased, pinching the boy's cheek. "Your king is being dragged away before your eyes and here you are: kicking and screaming like a toddler. It'd honestly be funny if it weren't so sad."

The boy merely growled, summoning a dagger that just barely missed Ardyn's nose.

"Let. Him. Go." He spoke, voice dripping with rage. Adryn shook his head with a tsk. 

"I'm afraid I cannot do that. You see, the empire has need of your beloved king." Ardyn paused, pretending to be pondering something. "You know, come to think of it, the emperor has need of you too. In a perfect world, we'd take the little blonde sharp-shooter. His majesty seems quite fond of him. Even so, I'm sure you'll do just fine."

The Chamberlain's eyes widened in a way that made Ardyn's heart sing. He could clearly see the fear coil through the boy's body like poison, beautiful and agonizing. Oh, how he wished he could stare at such a face forever. 

Unfortunately, there was work to be done. They needed to leave Altissia before the Accordo military got figured out what was going on.

After a few more seconds of basking in the Chamberlain's misery, Adryn stood tall.

"Would you look at the time? I do believe we must be on our way." He jeered. Around him, drop ships were starting to take off as a part of the empire's retreat.

No, not retreat. That would imply they hadn't gotten what they came for. A "getaway" perhaps? Ah, semantics. Ardyn clapped his hands together, stretching his back casually as if he hadn't just kidnapped the heir to the throne of Lucis. 

Meanwhile, the chamberlain had managed to get on arm free as the MTs tried to pull him to his feet. He slashed his dagger back and forth like a maniac, seemingly too panicked to pay attention to what he was attacking. Ardyn sighed, shaking his head. So it was going to be like this, huh? Alright, no big deal. Again, he wouldn't let a bratty chamberlain ruin his perfect seaside day.

Without hesitation, Ardyn kicked the boy to the ground, digging his heel into the space in between his shoulder blades. The boy screamed, loudly and so very satisfyingly. Ardyn decided he wanted to hear it again.

And again. And again.

And again.

He spent the next few minutes ramming his boot into the chamberlain's torso, reveling in each pathetic shriek he was able to ring out. When it seemed like the boy was getting used to the pain, Ardyn would switch locations, ripping another yelp from his chest.

This went on for probably longer than it should've. It wasn't until the chamberlain had stopped struggling and there was blood dribbling from his lips that Ardyn decided enough was enough. 

This time when the MTs tried to lift him, the boy didn't so much as squirm. He just fell limp and allowed the metal monsters to carry him away.

If Ardyn listened closely, he could hear the Chamberlain's final murmur. "Noct..." he said, before finally falling unconscious.  _ Good _ . 

That took much longer than expected, though Ardyn couldn't bring himself to care. The emperor could wait a little longer for the king to be delivered. Right now, everything was going exactly according to plan.

Ardyn stood on the altar for some time after the captives had been taken aboard the ship. He just wanted to take advantage of the peaceful aftermath of destruction.

The air was salty and fresh, with just a touch of blood. Ardyn smiled, the cooling corpse of Lunafreya at his feet.


	2. For We Have Sinned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prince awakens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Welcome to the second chapter of my story! Warning for some swearing, but other than that, please enjoy!

Noctis had always been a heavy sleeper. Ever since he was a little kid, the maids would struggle to get him up and out of bed in time to start the day. One time his heart rate had apparently dropped so low that the poor servants thought he was dead. That had been an awkward morning.

The trait had followed him into adulthood, which was becoming more apparent now as Noctis struggled to regain consciousness.

He felt pain. That was the one whispering thought that he could make out in a whirlwind of scrambled noise. It came and went, washing over his body like the tides on a beach.

When the tide was out, he could almost fade back into the blissful unawareness of sleep. It was a calm sort of nothingness that probably should've worried him more than it did. When the tide came in, it was torture. He could feel it seeping through his skin, a burning agony that would have ripped a scream from him had he been fully awake.

He continued like this, trapped in a constant back and forth of pain and relief. And yet, this didn't wake him up, such was his curse.

Between the comings and going of the tide, Noctis found himself wandering the land of dreams. And though he was nowhere near lucid, he was aware that this dream was unlike any he had ever had before.

He was in the throne room, a section of the Citadel he had rarely visited in his youth. The reason for this was, in part, because Noctis couldn't stand it when his father went into "King Mode" (An unbearably stringent attitude he adopted when he sat atop the throne.) During these times, Noct would have to call his dad "Your Majesty" which was enough to make him hate the room with a passion.

Despite this, Noctis felt no disdain as he approached the golden chair. Something about it called to him, like an old friend welcoming him home. It was only as he got closer that Noct realized what was wrong with this picture.

The throne was empty. His father was nowhere to be found.

Before Noctis could wonder why that was, he heard a voice speak softly behind him.

"Noctis." At the base of the stairs was his father, donning royal raiments. Had he been more awake, Noctis might've cared for the fact that his dad was supposed to be very much  _ not alive.  _ In fact, Noctis shouldn't have been able to even be at the Citadel right now. Insomnia was in ruins and crawling with MTs.

But Noctis just smiled.

"Dad!" He rushed down for a hug, only to stop when he saw his father's expression. His brows were furrowed, a sad smile gracing his lips. He looked ready to cry.

"Dad? What's wrong?"

Rather than providing an answer, his father only shook his head.

"My son. I'm so, so, sorry."

"Sorry? What do you mean?" Noctis asked, reaching to grab his dad's arm. He was like a toddler once again, grasping for his dad's coat sleeves in an effort to feel assured. Except, back then, his father would've smiled and put his large hand over Noct's small one. Now when Noct reached out, his hand came up empty. 

His father was fading away before his very eyes, dissolving into nothing more than dust.

"What the-" Noctis was interrupted when he felt someone grip his shoulder. He whipped around, breath coming out in heaving pants. 

But his mind eased when he saw Luna. 

She was beautiful as ever, blond hair falling around her face in ethereal locks. And yet, like Noct's father, her face was marred by a sorrowful frown.

Before Noctis could even greet her, she was already shaking her head.

"Noctis. Please… forgive me." She whispered, a few stray tears falling down her cheeks. Noctis furrowed his brows.

"Luna, why would I need to forgive you?" He truly couldn't understand why she and his father felt the need to apologize to him.  _ If anyone should be sorry _ , Noct thought,  _ it's me. _

He'd been rude to his father on the day he left for Altissia, unaware that it would be the last time they would see each other in this life. He was just a spoiled little prince, too weak to save those he loved.

He wasn't the king that Luna deserved.

He wanted to tell Luna that she had nothing to apologize for. Then he would find his dad and tell him the same. Before he could give voice to his remorse, however, Luna had already disappeared in a puff of smoke like his father.

"What!? Luna?" Noctis called, scouring the throne room for even a glimpse of his fiancée.

She was gone.

Noctis closed his eyes and when he opened them he was surrounded. Prompto, Ignis, and Gladio stood before him, all of them wearing the same defeated stare.

"Noct, buddy, I'm so sorry."

"Forgive me, Noct."

"Kid… I'm sorry."

Again, they disappeared before Noctis had a chance to react. Others took their places at once, repeating the ongoing pattern. There were Clarus and Cor, Nyx Ulric, and Iris. Cindy, Cid, Dave. There were even some kids from school that Noct had only spoken to once or twice.

Their voices were like thunder, pounding into Noct's brain and forcing a cry from his throat. All of them acted as if they'd deeply wronged Noctis and desperately wanted to atone. Not only did Noct not understand why they felt that way, but he was getting pretty annoyed with the constant bombardment of apologies.

"Stop it! Stop apologizing!" He yelled over the growing cacophony, but his voice got lost in the roar. They were screaming at him now, begging him to please have mercy on their souls.

_ Forgive us! _

_ Forgive us for we have sinned! _

Noctis covered his ears, but it did nothing to save him from the onslaught. When the crowd had grown to the size of an ocean, he could no longer stand it.

"STOP!" He screamed, summoning his blade and slashing in a circle around. At once, the room fell silent, and Noct allowed himself to let out a breath. He could've stayed like that forever, panting and trying to process what exactly had just happened.

But soon enough, he cracked his eyes open. He gasped, his blade falling to the floor with a deafening clash. 

Around him were the corpses of everyone he'd ever known, rigid and cold.

Directly at his feet, was Ignis.

"Noct…" He whispered, blood trailing from his lips, "I'm… sorry…"

Ignis went still, and Noctis screamed.

-

Whether it was the dream, the pain, or the growing hunger in his stomach that eventually woke Noctis up, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that with each passing of the tide, he was brought further back to awareness.

That being said, it wasn't until he felt a hand grasp his head by the hair that he started to rouse.

He couldn't open his eyes at first. It was as if his own body were working against him, begging him to go back to sleep. But there was a voice now, an unfamiliar murmur that Noct slowly realized he couldn't ignore.

With a groan of effort, Noctis forced his eyes open, blinking out the crust of sleep. He was met by a blinding light that forced a cry from his throat. In reality, it wasn't even that bright, but to Noctis, it was like knives stabbing at his pupils.

The voice kept droning on, perhaps chuckling, but it sounded garbled and underwater. As he struggled to make out their words, Noctis became more and more aware of the pain wracking his body.

It wasn't like before when Noctis was barely conscious. No, that pain was bad but radiated evenly throughout his body. It was like an old scar acting up on a cold afternoon, uncomfortable, but not unbearable.

This pain... It was fire. Focused in the back of his shoulder blades and his wrists, Noctis couldn't help but let out a choked gasp as he felt the full spectrum of agony finally hit him like an 18-wheeler.

He groaned, attempting to take stock of his situation despite his pain. From what he could tell with his (still very blurry) vision, he was in what seemed to be a storage room. There were boxes and shelves, the contents of which he couldn't make out at the moment.

He was dazed, still foggy under the influence of sleep, yet somehow standing upright. He tried to rub at his eyes, only to find his arms immobile.

_ What the… _

Noctis felt fear race through his veins as he forced himself to look to the side. Splayed out on a metal frame, his arms were restrained beside him to form a "T," fastened by heavy-duty cuffs on each of his wrists.

Noct gasped, yanking at his arms to no avail. That failure only made him struggle harder, adrenaline and panic chasing away any leftover drowsiness in his body.

He probably would've gone into a full-blown panic attack was it not for someone clearing their throat on the other side of the room. Noctis' head darted to the side, sending a spike of pain down his neck.

His eyes widened.

"Ah, so his majesty is finally awake?" 

Sitting in a chair with his legs crossed, was Ardyn Izunia, Chancellor of Niflheim. He watched Noctis with an expression he couldn't name, but it made him uncomfortable nonetheless.

"Wha… Ardyn-" He stuttered, the name coming to his lips faster than any kind of negative association. He actually almost smiled at first, subconsciously relieved to see a familiar face in such a frightening situation.

But then a memory came to mind, one coated in blood and saltwater. Noctis remembered Luna's scream as the dagger plunged into her abdomen. He remembered the growing stain of red on her white dress.

He remembered Ardyn, cleaning the blood off of his knife with his sleeve.

"I must say, you've seen better days. The Hydrean really did a number on you, didn't she?" Ardyn mused, acting as if he hadn't killed one of Noctis's closest friends in cold blood. 

_ No. Not killed.  _ Luna could still be alive. She could be strung up somewhere like Noct himself. She could be waiting for him.

Noct tried to think rationally, he really did. But his head was pounding, and all he could think about was Luna's body slumped over on itself, covered in watery blood. 

He needed to get out of here; needed to find her. But first, he needed to get his thoughts together.

"The Hydrean… L-Luna…" He murmured, finding it difficult to speak. It was like his throat was filled with cotton balls that turned his voice weak and scratchy.

Noct found he was losing himself fast, thinking about everything that happened in Altissia. His mind was racing, threatening to break right then and there if he didn't calm down.

What would Specs tell him to do in this situation? Noctis summoned an old memory, one from his childhood. Ignis had been instructing him on the proper protocol for being kidnapped, something every royal should know. Just in case.

_ Find out as much as possible. Keep them talking.  _ He'd said. It was all Noct could do just to follow the advice

"Where… where am I?"

"I'm glad you asked." Ardyn jeered, stepping closer to Noct's bound body. The room was so small that with just that one move, he was already making Noct feel claustrophobic. The Chancellor seemed to notice his discomfort, though he made no effort to back away. "Welcome to Zegnautus Keep. Your new home."

Okay, now Noct was panicking. It was as if every childhood nightmare he'd ever had was coming true, except this time his dad wouldn't be around to wake him up and tell him everything was alright.

"New home… what the hell are you talking about?!" He demanded, voice breaking a bit as the floodgates of his fear came tumbling down. Breathing became more and more difficult. It was as if there were holes in his lungs, losing oxygen quicker than Noct could take it in.

He was suddenly very aware of the restraints keeping him in place. 

"Let me go!" Noctis seized, pulling and yanking at his arms like a madman. He didn't let up even when his wrists started to bruise and exhaustion pulled at his muscles. All the while, Ardyn looked like a kid at the candy store.

"No can do, I'm afraid. You see, the Empire requires your services. As for me, well…" Suddenly, Ardyn's expression was overtaken by shadows. If Noctis looked carefully, perhaps he might've seen flecks of black in the whites of the Chancellor's eyes.

"I'm just happy to watch you suffer."

The statement chilled Noctis to the bone. It was as if the Glacian herself traced her fingertips down his spine. In his life, Noctis had made many enemies, most of whom despised him for reasons completely unrelated to himself. In other words, they hated the crown, not Noctis as a person. This time, however, Noctis saw hatred in the Chancellor's eyes that went far beyond a simple royal grudge. Ardyn glared at him, no, glared  _ through  _ him. It was like Ardyn was looking into his very soul and he wanted to rip it out.

Noctis kept waiting for some kind of punchline, waiting to discover that he'd misheard. But Ardyn only smiled.

_ I'm just happy to watch you suffer. _

Noctis shook his head. He'd have time to worry about that later. Right now there were too many questions and not nearly enough answers.

"Where's Luna?" He demanded, hoping that his voice was that of a powerful king and not the terrified teenager he felt like. Ardyn paced as he spoke, elegantly strutting back and forth while Noct followed him with his eyes.

"Ah, yes! How could I forget about the blushing bride-to-be?" Suddenly, Adryn paused in place, shooting Noctis a knowing grin. "Unfortunately she won't be able to make it, but she did leave you a darling engagement gift."

"What are you talking about?" Noct asked. He instantly wracked his brain, wondering what  _ gift  _ Ardyn could be referring to.

"Why don't you see for yourself?"

With that, Ardyn reached into his breast pocket and pulled out something small enough to enclose within his fist. He held it up between his thumb and forefinger, making sure Noctis could get a good look.

Noct's heart sank into his stomach when he realized what it was.

"The Ring of the Lucii… but Luna-" 

Luna was supposed to have the ring. She was supposed to give it to Noctis; that had been his father's dying wish. That was why Noct had traveled so far to see her. She was supposed to give it to him.

_ Luna should have the ring. _

So, how could it be here, in the hands of someone like Ardyn?

"What did you do to her!?" Noct yelled, straining against the metal frame holding him in place. Luna would never have given up the ring of her own free will. She just wasn't that kind of person. Noctis couldn't understand how it had come to be in Ardyn's possession, and yet he understood perfectly.

There was only one explanation, and it was the most impossible to accept. 

"If it's any consolation to you, she can no longer feel pain," Ardyn said, and Noct lost it.

"No! No- you're lying!" He screamed. It couldn't be true. He didn't care if the Bladekeeper, Bahamut, himself came down and said it was the case.

_ Luna was not dead. _

She couldn't be. 

But then he remembered the blood, a gruesome stain on the white of her dress. Her scream, pained and terrified, ringing out over the roar of the Hydrean. The Ring of the Lucii, once under her protection, was now here, in the palm of the enemy.

Luna couldn't be dead.

And yet, Noct knew that she was.

Ardyn had waited patiently for the look of agonized realization to slowly pass over Noctis' face. And once it did, he rolled his eyes, making a  _ tsk  _ sound with his tongue.

"Believe what you want, it won't change your situation." He said, resuming his extravagant jaunt across the four meters of floor space. Everything about his actions reeked utter elation like he deeply enjoyed witnessing Noctis's despair.

It made Noct's blood boil, seeing the man who'd hurt Luna, acting so carefree. He jerked against the cuffs, wishing so deeply that he could drive his Engine Blade through Ardyn's stupid hat.

"Look, you better let me go right now or I swear I'll make you regre-"

"Not likely, Mr. Caelum."

Noctis was interrupted by a stranger coming through the door, and when he recognized him, any threats fell dead on his lips.

"E-Emperor Aldercapt," Noctis whispered, remembering the Niflheim ruler from scary sleepover stories and anti-war propaganda videos. He'd always been depicted as a feeble old man, a power-hungry coward hiding behind Magitek and Daemons. Noct had never feared the Emperor.

But none of the videos had ever managed to capture his icy stare. None had come close to replicating the feeling of dread that washed over Noct when that stare trained itself on him.

"It feels good to be recognized by the so-called Chosen King. I'm honored." The Emperor spoke and there was no smile in his voice. He was unlike Ardyn, whom Noctis could tell felt at least some sort of respect towards Noct as a person. Hateful though he may have been, Ardyn looked at Noctis and saw a beaten prince, a boy, in over his head.

When the Emperor looked at him, Noctis knew he saw nothing more than a means to an end, a tool to be used and discarded.

That look made Noctis want to vomit. Even so, he swallowed his fear, masking it with anger and frustration.

"What's going on?!" Noctis demanded.

"You're a smart boy, perhaps you can figure it out on your own?" Suddenly, the Emperor stepped forward, grabbing Noct's chin in his hand. Noctis flinched instinctively but found his head had nowhere to go before colliding with the metal beam behind him. He struggled for a bit, but the man held strong.

Once Noct had given up trying to remove his chin from the Emperor's grasp, Aldercapt forced him to look back and forth. Inspecting his face like a prized trophy. 

"It's a shame, really. If only your father had submitted to me when he had the chance, you wouldn't be in this situation right now." With that, he finally let go of Noct's face, stepping back to stand with the Chancellor.

"Yeah, 'cause I'd be dead." Noctis retorted, shaking his head until his skin forgot the sensation of the Emperor's touch. Aldercapt actually chuckled a bit.

"A sharp one, aren't you? Then perhaps you'll be able to understand your position."

Noctis cocked a brow.

"My position?"

"As Niflheim's newest weapon, of course." The Emperor answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Except, Noctis didn't quite understand. When he pictured a weapon of the Empire, he saw metal monsters infused with malice and hatred. He saw guns and ammunition, stacked on top of one another like some kind of heinous modern art sculpture.

He did  _ not  _ see himself, a scrawny twenty-something-year-old boy, bound in place and at the mercy of an enemy monarch and his fiancée's murderer.

Still, the Emperor eyed him like he was a sabertusk at the zoo, incredibly dangerous and completely helpless all at once. The look made Noctis hesitate, unsure if he wanted an answer to his next question.

"Weapon? What's that supposed to mean?"

The Emperor smiled, then beckoned to Ardyn with a wave of his hand. Wordlessly, Ardyn placed the ring that was Noctis's birthright into Aldercapt's waiting palm.

"The Ring of the Lucii is a fickle thing. It burned Commander Ravus's arm clean off the second he tried to wear it. Rather than waste time and effort trying to find someone that the ring considers  _ worthy,  _ it would be much more convenient to use someone of… royal blood."

And suddenly it all came together.

"You want me to…" Noct couldn't bring himself to finish the thought. In all of his worst nightmares, he'd never imagined that he'd be asked to use the power of his ancestors against his home country.

"Yes." The Emperor said, dashing any hopes Noctis might've had that this was some sort of huge misunderstanding. "Consider this your official induction into Nifleheim's ranks, Noctis Lucis Caelum."

The Emperor spat his full name like an insult, and really, it was. Or at least, it would be if Noctis went through with this. He pictured a long line of Lucian kings, all of them glaring at him in disappointment as he used them to level the countryside.

Noct would be known as the Failure King, or worse: the Traitor King.

But again, that was only if he played along with the Emperor's dastardly plan. Noct felt a rage burn inside him at the very suggestion that he would roll over like a dog and let the Empire tell him what to do.

No. He would fight. Down to his very last breath. He owed his ancestors that much.

_ He owed Luna that much. _

"No way will I work for you!" He spat with a jerk at his bonds. "You took everything from me! You killed my father! YOU KILLED LUNA!" 

Noctis' voice almost cracked at that last part, as if admitting it aloud made it all the more real. Still, he didn't allow himself to cry. At least not in front of these bastards.

The Emperor seemed to pick up on his pain, however, because an expression that just barely resembled pity stretched across his face.

"Ah, yes. The death of the Oracle was unfortunate but necessary. She was too powerful for her own good, that one."

If Aldercapt had thought that that statement would make Noctis feel more sympathetic towards him, then he was stupider than Noct thought. The idea that someone as sweet as Luna, that someone so selfless and brave, her death was "necessary?" That she needed to be put down like a dog?!

Noctis saw red, once again thrashing in his restraints like a wild animal.

"SHUT UP! YOU- YOU BASTARD!" He screamed, desperately trying to summon the Royal Arms and drive them through the Emperor's skull. But it was as if something was blocking the weapons from hearing his call.

Or someone.

"It seems I've struck a nerve." The Emperor mused, once again stepping close enough to touch Noct's face. "Then let's return to the topic at hand."

He leaned in until Noct could feel icy breath dance across his nose. "You will wield the Ring of the Lucii to serve the Niflheim Empire."

And, like a fearless warrior, or perhaps a petulant child, Noctis stood his ground. Unwavering.

"I said no."

The slap came down on his cheek before Noctis even had time to cry out. It stung like when Gladio would land a hit on him during training. Except, Gladio would always appear a little guilty after the fact, helping Noct up and patching his wounds. The Emperor just scowled at him, cold and uncaring.

"Foolish boy. Do you truly believe you have a choice in the matter?"

"I believe you can't fucking make me betray my people! Do whatever you want to me, I'll never serve you!" Noctis retorted and he meant it. He would risk everything if it meant saving his people. No, saving the world.

The Emperor sighed at Noct's response, appearing quite exhausted. 

"I had a feeling you might be difficult. Very well, why don't I introduce you to my newest pet?" With a snap of his fingers, the door to the cell began to open.

Noctis expected a daemon. He expected some repulsive monster with claws and fangs, a monster that would be brought in to torture him until he surrendered. Noctis steeled himself for that pain, knowing full well that he couldn't give in no matter what horrors they put him through. He would grit his teeth and bear it, at least until the others were able to save him.

What he didn't expect was a familiar face to come trudging through the door, the MTs holding his arms the only thing keeping him from collapsing.

Noctis paled.

"Ignis!"

Ignis whipped his head up at Noct's cry, his eyes widening, and Noctis cursed when he saw the state of his friend's typically well-kept appearance. Ignis' hair was dull and dirty, bangs falling into his sunken eyes. His glasses were cracked, casting a frightening shadow onto his pale skin. He was battered and beaten, his face taking on a purplish hue from all of the bruises, some healing, and some fresh. His lip was split.

Perhaps the worst part, however, was the black collar fastened tightly around Ignis' neck. It stood out, shiny and new in contrast to Ignis's ruined clothes. 

Noctis, once again, pulled at his restraints, fruitlessly attempting to reach his friend. Ignis did the same but was no match for the MTs' iron grip. With Ignis' arms bound behind his back and Noct's bound to the sides, both were completely helpless.

It wasn't a position Noctis was used to seeing his advisor in, and that in and of itself made Noct feel sick to his stomach. Ignis looked as if he desperately wanted to say something, but oddly enough, he kept his mouth pressed in a firm line. Noct didn't have much time to ponder this, however, before the Emperor interrupted their reunion.

"Aw, so the little king is on a first-name basis with his chamberlain? How sweet." He said, voice dripping with sarcasm. Behind him, Ardyn was smiling like a madman, no doubt enjoying Noctis' reaction to seeing his friend in such a state.

It was then that Noctis realized the gravity of the situation. Before, it had just been his own wellbeing at stake, and he could handle that. He could put himself through the wringer if it meant his friends would be safe. But now, Ignis was involved, and Noctis felt a very real fear begin to engulf his mind.

"Let him go! I'm the one you want, not him." He said, hoping to the Six that his voice came out more intimidating than he thought it did. But, by the triumphant expression on the Emperor and Ardyn’s faces, he seriously doubted it. 

"Right again, Mr. Caelum. You  _ are _ the one we want. However, Mr. Scientia here is what we call… insurance."

"What?!" Noctis questioned, though he could see where this was going from a mile away. If the empire was evil enough to slay the Oracle like a pesky mosquito, then they most likely wouldn’t draw the line at using Noct’s friends against him. And the worst part was, If they truly planned to torture Ignis, Noctis knew he wouldn’t be able to do what the kingdom needed of him.

"Chancellor Izunia, why don't you explain?" Aldercapt smirked, stepping back as if to admire the scene. Once more, Ardyn took the reins, bypassing Ignis’ bound form to stand before Noctis.

"Certainly. If his majesty would direct his gaze to his feet…"

Noctis hesitated, half-expecting to see a pit of lava, or perhaps a screen broadcasting a video play by play of the fall of Insomnia. That seemed like something the Empire would do. With an expectant stare from Ardyn and a nervous glance from Iggy, Noctis finally swallowed his fear and looked down.

It was quite anti-climactic actually. Beneath Noct’s feet was a medium-sized, rectangular plate that stood out from the rest of the floor. As far as he could tell, there were no compartments that could open up to reveal buzzsaws or flamethrowers. It was, seemingly exclusively, a gray panel.

But Noctis knew that there had to be more to it than that. Ardyn wouldn’t look so sadistically happy if there wasn’t.

"Just in case you had any ideas about warping out of those restraints the second we leave," The Chancellor’s grin widened, chilling Noct to the bone, "The mechanism you're standing on is a weight sensor, and should it ever drop to zero, the collar around his royal doggie's neck will administer an electrical shock powerful enough to fry a Catoblepas."

No.

No, they couldn’t. Noct refused to believe it. Even the empire couldn’t do something so sick, so repulsive, so-

Noctis’ gaze fell to Ignis, and the pained look in his friend’s eyes told him that this was the truth. Still, Noctis shook his head. There was no way he could just accept this.

"And I'm just supposed to believe that?"

"Oh, by all means, test it out. Lift your feet from the floor. I'd just assumed you wouldn't be willing to risk your friend's life so carelessly."

At first, Noctis almost considered it. His desire to break free from this absolute nightmare outweighed his better judgment. So badly, he wanted to lift his feet and have Iggy be completely fine and warp strike Ardyn in his stupid face. Noctis had never wished for someone to be lying to him more in his life. 

He wanted to prove them wrong.

But therein, lay the trap. He couldn’t know if they were being truthful or not, and the risk was too great to take. Even though he could easily teleport through space and time to safety, Noctis would be forced to stay put, like a perfectly trained dog.

Something inside Noctis broke at the realization that there was no way out of this. He felt like a child again, bleeding out before the Marilith with no hope of survival. Except back then, his father had come to rescue him at the last minute. Now it was just him and Iggy and a stupid collar.

Noctis hung his head in defeat.

Seemingly satisfied by his submission, the Emperor stepped forward once again, a cruel grin marring his withered face. 

"Now then," he said, "I trust we've come to an understanding?"

Understanding? Oh yeah, Noctis understood perfectly. As much as it killed him to think about, he would need to play along with the Empire’s heinous schemes, at least until he could figure out a way to bust out of here without harming Iggy. 

"You'll never get away with this. People will come for us." Noctis said. He pictured Prompto and Gladio, busting through the front gate of the Empire’s city and mowing down anyone who stood in their way. Of course, it wouldn’t just be them. Cor would come too, maybe bring Dave and his pack of hunters along. They would brave the icy landscape of Niflheim and free their king.

As much as it often felt like it, Noctis knew he wasn’t alone. He had all of his friends to back him up when he needed it, and he wanted the Emperor to know that.

Except, his bold statement didn’t seem to carry the threatening confidence that Noct had intended. Both the Emperor and Ardyn merely looked at him with mischievous glares, as if they knew something Noct didn’t.

The Emperor cleared his throat.

"Then I suppose it's time for your first task." Eyes never leaving Noctis, the Emperor once again held up the Ring of the Lucii. "Create an impenetrable wall around Gralea, just like the one your father put around Insomnia for all those years."

Noctis froze.

“What?!”

“You heard me. We wouldn’t want there to be any unfortunate rescue attempts now would we?”

Suddenly every fantasy of his friends arriving to save the day faded into dust. Noct hadn’t even considered all of the functions of the ring that the Empire could exploit. Assuming he could even produce a wall like his father’s, any rescue team would be powerless to get past it. The wall had withstood Niflheim forces for decades, it wouldn’t fall for a Chocobo-loving technophile and a grumpy shield. If he raised a wall around Gralea, he would be sealing the door to his own cage.

He would be single-handedly preventing Ignis’ and his own escape. 

Still, he couldn’t afford to refuse. Iggy’s life depended on his cooperation, the collar around his throat acting as an obvious reminder. Noct couldn’t just ignore his friend for the greater good. He was trapped in every sense of the word, his options limited and his hands bound. He could do nothing, and yet he had to do something.

He had to choose: himself or Ignis.

“I…” Noctis trailed off, knowing full well that he was just stalling for time. He knew what he was supposed to do.

He was supposed to spit in the Emperor’s face and warp all the way back to Altissia. He was supposed to sacrifice Ignis for the “greater good.” He was supposed to be King-First, Noct-Second.

But he met Ignis’ eyes, saw the fear behind cracked glass, and he knew he couldn’t do what he was supposed to.

“Fine. I’ll do it.” He said, his voice a mere whisper of what it once had been. He didn’t sound like a powerful king. No, he sounded like a scared child, one who had seen far too much bloodshed in his short life.

The Emperor made a sound of approval, moving forward to slip the ring onto Noct’s finger. He could feel an almost electric pulse coming from the metal band. It was as if the Ancient kings were calling out to him from their silver prison. Noctis wondered, briefly, if he would see his father amongst the Kings of Yore. He wondered how he would feel, seeing his only son reduced to a prisoner of the Empire.

The Emperor took his sweet time with the ring, and Noctis could feel anxiety begin to bubble in his throat. What if the Lucii didn’t find him worthy? Noct certainly didn’t feel worthy right now. He felt like a coward. A coward who needed to protect his friend.

It was just before the metal made contact with his skin, that Ignis apparently couldn’t take it anymore. He lurched to life, pulling at the MTs’ grip. 

"Noct, don't do it-AGH-" As soon as the words left his mouth, the collar around Ignis’ throat glowed bright red. He staggered, body convulsing in a torrent of electricity. 

Ignis was screaming.

Noct was screaming.

He couldn’t understand what was happening nor why.

"IGGY!" Noctis yelped. With a gasp, he looked down to his feet, expecting to see that he had somehow stepped off the platform. But upon further examination, Noct saw that he was firmly planted on the ground. So, why then, was this happening?

His attention turned to the Emperor and Ardyn.

"What are you doing to him!? Stop it!"

Neither graced him with a reply, just staring as Ignis writhed on the ground. This seemed to continue for far too long, Ignis’ screams grating against Noct’s ears like nails on a bloody chalkboard. And then, as quick as it had begun, it was over. The collar’s glow died down and with it, Iggy’s squirming.

He slumped, panting heavily against the tile floor.

For a few seconds, no one spoke. Then Ardyn let out a whistle and the Emperor chuckled.

"Ah, yes.” Aldercapt sighed, turning his attention back to Noctis, “You see, your leaving of that pedestal isn't the only thing that could set off your servant's collar."

The Emperor flashed an evil grin.

"It's been programmed to go off should he speak."

Noctis couldn’t find his voice at first, eyes still trained on Ignis’ twitching form. He watched the labored rise and fall of his friend’s chest like a non-believer scrutinizing god. He kept waiting for Iggy to get up and be okay, for all of this to have been one sick joke. But Iggy just laid there, half-dead.

It was after the Emperor’s comment that anger flared up in his chest.

"Why!?" He demanded, truly trying to understand why anyone would do such a horrible thing, especially to Ignis. Ignis, who always cared for others above himself. Ignis, who was never too tired to crack a terrible pun. Ignis, who loved coming up with new recipes just to watch Noct’s face as he tried them. Why would anyone do this to him?

It seemed Ardyn had an answer because he strolled across the room to Iggy’s unconscious body. He grabbed a fistful of his hair, roughly petting him like some kind of dog. 

"Can't have the advisor to the king, advising the king, now can we? It's better for our purposes if you and he cannot communicate." Ardyn chirped as if it were obvious. Noctis only scowled.

"Bastard!"

The Emperor tsked, “Language, dear boy. We wouldn’t want that collar to go off once again, now would we?”

Noctis took one glance at Ignis and paled. There was no way he could take another shock like that and live. If he wanted to protect him, Noctis would have to go against his wishes and summon a wall.

He shook his head, despair clear on his face. The Emperor nodded.

“Good, then why don’t we pick up where we left off?” Without giving Noct a chance to reply, Aldercapt slipped the ring onto Noct’s finger.

And with a shower of blue sparks, Noctis was gone.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter ended up longer than I meant it to. I actually had to cut it because it was getting too long and I really wanted to update. I hope ya'll enjoyed! PLEASE COMMENT! Like- literally anything! I LOVE comments! Begging me for a new chapter is both accepted and encouraged. 
> 
> Also please remember to leave Kudos! Thank you! Have a great day and stay safe! :)


	3. King's Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the ruines Altissa, the King's absence becomes apparent.

The young King looks out into a sea of his ancestors, each one clad in ceremonial armor reserved only for royal burials, and feels quite out of place. He can hear them whispering to each other, some snickering and others holding back growls.

He tries to make out their words but finds their voices in a language he cannot understand. That or the sound is too garbled for him to process. It's as if he's deep underwater. The pressure is unbearable, pushing down on him in all directions, and yet he stands tall.

"Kings of Lucis," He says, voice much too quiet amongst the din of murmuring spirits. They glare at him, scrutinizing every detail like a bug under a microscope. The young King falters.

His conviction is wavering, something that would convince the Kings of Yore to smite him where he stands, were he someone else. But the King is of royal blood, which means his ancestors cannot so easily ignore his call.

He takes a breath and tries again.

"Kings of Lucis!" He yells, this time cupping his hands to his face. The murmuring stops. All eyes turn to him.

The young King clears his throat, wishing so badly that he could escape from his ancestors' burning glares. He doesn't want this and they know it, but rather than pity him, his ancestors are enraged.

"Why do you bear the Ring? It is not yet your time." One of the elders booms. His voice is loud enough to make the young King cringe, just barely fighting the urge to cover his ears. Around him, the others echo in repeated whispers,

_ Not yet time, no, no, not time, it is not time, no, not yet time. _

The young King swallows thickly, desperately trying to find his voice amongst the roar.

"I- I need your power. Lend me your strength!"

At this, the elder glowers at him, seeming almost perplexed.

"You do not  _ want  _ our power, young one." He says, and despite his voice being just as unbearably loud as before, the young King can hear a hint of sorrow in the elder's voice. Again, the others echo.

_ Does not want, No, he doesn't want it, no, No he does not, He does not want it. _

The young King sighs, the realization that he can't hide his true feelings finally dawning on him. So rather than refuting, he decides to be honest.

"No. I don't want your power. But I need it."

It's the truth, though quite a sad one. The King knows what accepting this magic will do to him. He's seen it happen before his eyes. It will wear him down, leeching his very life away until he is nothing but a husk.

And he is still so very young.

The fact that he knows this and still demands power seems to anger the elder once again.

"A King who is too weak to enact his own will is no King at all."

_ Yes indeed, no King at all, he is weak, a weak King, no King, no. _

Their words sting the young King, leaving a wound deeper than any sword could create. The pain is almost enough to make him quit. His ancestors are right, he isn't ready to bear this burden.

But they don't know that the alternative is a much more gruesome price to pay, one that would affect more than just the King himself. It's the difference between holding up the world on your shoulders, and bench pressing it.

He needs this power, and he's going to get it.

Beyond the world of his inner turmoil, the chatter of elder Kings drones on like the hum of electricity. 

_ Not yet time. _

_ Does not want. _

_ No King at all. _

The pressure builds until he can no longer stand the noise.

"SILENCE!" He screams, and spirits hush like the dwindling flame of a candle. All eyes are on the King, but he finds that he no longer cares.

"You will give your power to me. I am King and I command it." His voice is clear and all-encompassing. He sounds like his father once did, confident and strong. Earlier, the memory might've brought pain surging to the surface of the King's mind, but now he feels nothing.

Just a strong sense of duty and a determination to accomplish his goal.

For what feels like a long time, the elders say nothing. There are no whispers, no clearing throats. In this spiritual plane, there isn't even any wind to break the silence.

There is just a King, staring expectantly at the ghosts of his past.

The elder King sighs.

"Very well." He says, and there is no following chatter. "We shall bestow upon you the power of the Lucii."

Hearing those words, the young King allows himself to relax a bit. It's as if a great burden has been lifted from his chest. His relief is short lived, however. The elder's eyes darken.

"But know this," he booms, "Our power will eat away at your very soul until the day that it takes your life. It could be days; it could be years. The ring is an omen of death."

Before the young King can react to the chilling words, a bright blue light engulfs his vision. It burns, lapping at his skin and peeling muscle from bone. He screams. The world around begins to fade.

As the power of the Lucii fills his body, a voice fills his ears. It's so familiar, and yet so wrong.

"My son," it says, and it sounds so… defeated, "I'm so, so, sorry."

-

Prompto gnawed at his cuticles as he played King's Knight, foot-tapping inadvertently like a caffeinated jack rabbit. He wasn't focusing on the game, not really. It was simply the only thing preventing him from falling into a full-on panic attack.

They were supposed to be at a wedding right now. Prompto was supposed to be the best man and put his hand on Noct's shoulder while they waited for his beautiful bride to stroll down the aisle. He was supposed to cry ugly tears and then stuff his face with enough cake and mini-quiches to feed four armies.

He was not supposed to be curled up in a rickety lounge chair in the Secretary of Accordo's office, or at least, her temporary office. The real one had been destroyed in the Leviathan's rampage, as was most of Altissia. This one was a tiny room off to the side in one of the main refugee centers.

Prompto had spent the day running back and forth through the ruins of the city until his legs had given out, escorting survivors to the shelter.

He would've kept going for longer. There were still people yet to be found, Ignis and Noct among them. Unfortunately, Gladio could see past his fake bravado easily. Prompto was exhausted, and he could hardly get two words in before Gladio had sent him back to the shelter to rest.

And as much as it stung to admit it, Prompto couldn't deny the way his body screamed out in joy the second he sat down in a real chair. He probably couldn't get up if he tried.

Now, night had fallen, and Gladio was braving the daemon-infested darkness to look for the King, his advisor, and fiancée. All without Prompto's help.

At first, Prompto had tried to stay hopeful. That was his job, wasn't it? He was the upbeat one in the group, the one who freaked out over Chocobos and wasn't allowed to drive the car. Amongst the King's Sword and Shield, Prompto was the Jester, a role he'd slipped into quite easily. And as a Jester, it was his duty to keep everyone smiling… even in the worst situations.

So, he'd smiled, slapped Gladio on the back and said everything would be fine. They'd find Noct, Iggy, and Luna; they'd go somewhere safe from Niflheim control, and they'd figure out what to do from there. Maybe, they could even have the wedding. It'd be smaller than expected of course, definitely not fit for a royal marriage, but they'd do their best. They could host it in Hammerhead. Prompto was sure Cindy would let them, no matter what Cid might say.

Everything would be alright. It had to be.

But Gladio had left hours ago, and it seemed that as the seconds ticked onward, Prompto's hope dwindled. They'd swept the city over a hundred times by now, with still no sign of the missing trio. The altar had been destroyed, reduced to rubble at the bottom of the bay. Perhaps that's where Noct was too.

Prompto felt light headed at the thought.

No, all three of them could swim. They had to have crawled to shore and the search parties just weren't looking in the right spot. Yeah, that's it. Knowing Noct, he was probably fast asleep under a blanket of rubble. Maybe Iggy and Luna were passed out with him, exhausted by the day's battle.

Maybe Gladio was on his way back right now, the prince slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, Luna and Ignis following sleepily behind.

Or maybe Gladio wouldn't return at all, leaving Prompto as basically the last tie to the Lucian royal family. A Jester as a King. He might as well have given up right then.

But Prompto couldn't allow himself to spiral, not when he still didn't know what was going on. He would just have to wait for news, good or bad. No matter how much the uneasiness ate at his gut.

So he just kept on playing King's Knight, pretending that he couldn't hear the cries of women and children in the next shelter over.

He'd just barely failed to break his previous high score when he heard a commotion. Outside the tiny room of the Secretary's office, several voices rang out in frantic shouts followed by a torrent of footsteps. Prompto perked up at the noise.

Had the search parties returned?

Prompto felt his heart swell up with relief. Of course, they were back! They must have finally found the others! He could already envision how he would greet Noct: with a bear-hug followed quickly by a crying-lecture on how worried he was. And maybe, if his best friend somehow managed to survive that, they would laugh this nightmare off and think about what to do next.

It was funny, really. Prompto had always fantasized about going on some wild road trip with his friends. Now he wanted nothing more than to return to Lucis and sleep forever. A stab of sorrow shot through his gut when he realized that "Lucis" didn't really exist anymore, that his old apartment was likely now rubble and his parents were scattered to the winds. Still, Prompto shook it off. There would be time to mope later. Right now, the search party had returned!

Prompto stepped out of the office carefully, not wanting to accidentally hit someone who might've been standing in front of the door. Immediately, he saw a large group of people huddled in the lobby of the shelter. They were whispering violently, too muffled for Prompto to hear exactly what they were saying. 

Prompto paused at this, wondering what exactly could be causing such behavior, but his apprehension faded when he caught sight of a familiar mullet-having Shield.

"Gladio!" Prompto shouted, running up to the group eagerly like a Chocobo chick. Though not for lack of trying, he could hardly contain his excitement at the possibility of being reunited with his friends once more.

But then Gladio turned to face him, and Prompto froze.

The Shield's face was ashen, a stark contrast to his usual brazen demeanor. For as long as he'd known him, Prompto had never seen Gladio look even slightly nervous, let alone as shaken as he seemed to be now. It was so jarring, so completely unlike him, that Prompto felt as if he'd been sucker punched in the chest.

Truly, it wasn't just that dissonance that shook Prompto to his core. It was the question that came with it. What could've caused Gladio to look like that?

Prompto opened his mouth to ask, nightmaric visions of Noctis, Ignis, and Luna impaled by rubble and half-eaten by Daemons, flashing through his head. His question died on his lips, however, when the crowd parted to reveal red-stained form lying on a gurney.

No.  _ No, gods, no. _

On the gurney was the Oracle, cold and unmoving. Her clammy, milk-white skin seemed to be draped over her body like a poorly-made doll. Her hair fell limply around her face, the blonde color faded into an unhealthy yellow. Rigor mortis had set in, trapping her expression in a permanent grimace. An everlasting memory of the pain she must have gone through in her final moments.

And yet, she still looked so delicate. As if she were only sleeping.

Prompto had always pictured Lunafreya as a goddess, an ethereal being that he'd be lucky to be in the same room with, let alone talk to. It'd never mattered how many times Noct would tell him to "chill out, man. She's just a normal girl," Prompto wouldn't have it. He would always remember that fateful day in his childhood, when a somewhat-misguided letter had started Prompto on his mission to befriend Prince Noctis. Luna had sent that letter and Prompto wanted for nothing more than to thank her.

He owed her everything.

And here she was, yet another nameless casualty in the wake of the Leviathan's rage. Death seemed something far too crude for someone as gentle as her. It just didn't sit right. But there was no mistaking her unseeing eyes, void of the light that must have filled them. She was gone.

Prompto fell to his knees and vomited.

At once, Gladio had a hand on his back, rubbing in frantic circles that didn't exactly calm Prompto down. Still, the sentiment was nice. It seemed that the Shield was the only one concerned with Prompto's wellbeing. Everyone else was huddled around the princess, as if staring at her hard enough could somehow bring her back to life. 

If Prompto could've gotten any words out amidst his heaving breaths, he would've encouraged Gladio to join the others. How selfish of Prompto, to steal the Shield's attention away from more important matters. Just a few meters away, the princess of Tenebrae lay dead, and yet here Gladio was, comforting a commoner.

Some time must have passed before Prompto felt himself being guided back to the Secretary's office. He was still trembling, unable to rid his memory of the Oracle's lifeless corpse. Faintly, he heard Gladio yell something to the others, but he was far too out of it to tell.

Before he knew it, he was back in the rickety armchair and the princess had been taken somewhere out of the public eye. To where, Prompto was unsure. There wasn’t exactly a morgue in Altissia’s emergency refugee center. It was likely that they just wanted to limit the citizens’ exposure to such a gruesome sight. The discovery of her death had already caused a stir in the shelter, one that the surviving Accordan forces were having trouble containing. Everywhere, terrified citizens were demanding answers, wondering what would become of the world now that the Oracle had left it.

Again, Prompto felt a pang of guilt, knowing that Gladio should be out there helping instead of babysitting him. Even so, Prompto couldn't bring himself to send him away. (Not that Gladio would've listened if he had.) Honestly, Prompto just didn't want to be alone right now.

Once he seemed sure that Prompto wasn't going to be sick again, Gladio let himself fall into the chair on the opposite side of the room. A long sigh escaped his chest, hinting at his true exhaustion. The day really had taken its toll on everyone.

They sat together in silence for what felt like ages. It was as if neither knew what they could possibly say at a time like this. Prompto, for his part, took a breath once or twice in preparation to speak, but each time, he lost the nerve. This was a first for Prompto, who was often told to ‘shut up’ due to his incessant rambling. Now, he could think of nothing to say, at least not until quite an ugly thought crossed his mind. It occurred to him suddenly that in his distress over the princess, he had forgotten completely about the other missing persons.

“Gladio-” He breathed, voice a mere shadow of its usual cheerful lilt. “Where… Where’s Noct? And Iggy?” 

It was a question Prompto knew he couldn’t handle the answer to. He’d pondered it earlier, what he would do if the King and his Chamberlain were found dead, but none of his musings came close to replicating how it actually felt. He never could have imagined the despair, the utter terror of seeing a corpse and knowing your best friends could be very much the same.

Except… he hadn’t seen either of them alongside Lunafreya. Perhaps their bodies just hadn’t been found yet. Perhaps they were rotting at the bottom of the bay, lost souls doomed to serve the Hydrean for the rest of their afterlives.

Or perhaps, they were still out there somewhere, waiting to be saved.

As for which possibility was the truth, Prompto couldn’t tell from Gladio’s face. The Shield just sighed, shaking his head. Again, Prompto reflected on just how odd this was, seeing Gladio act so… defeated. He would have expected the man to be frustrated, sure. Anyone would be in this situation. But it was as if Gladio had already decided that Noct and Ignis were dead, even without seeing the bodies. Prompto wondered if that was a result of finding Lunafreya.

It was at that moment that Prompto made up his mind. If even someone as tough as Gladio was starting to give up, then Prompto needed to do his job. He needed to become the Jester once more. As disrespectful as it sounded, with Luna’s lifeless body somewhere further in the building, right now Gladio needed a positive entity. He needed a talkative, Chocobo-loving, blond who would convince him to keep looking on the bright side.

It didn’t matter if Noct and Ignis were dead or alive. Prompto would focus on the here and now. He would have to believe that they were out there somewhere, waiting for him and Gladio to come find them. And if they weren’t, well… he’d just have to deal with that later.

With that in mind, Prompto sprang up from his seat, ignoring the way his aching muscles cried out in pain. Gladio raised his brows. 

Wordlessly, Prompto took out his camera and pointed it at the Shield’s face. With the click of a button, Prompto captured Gladio’s look of confusion perfectly.

Upon realizing what Prompto had done, Gladio bristled a bit.

“What the hell was that?” He grumbled, clearly only half-heartedly angry. In the past, Gladio would have threatened to feed Prompto’s camera to the Chocobos, then tackled him and given him a noogie for good measure. Now he just seemed mildly annoyed, as if he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Prompto flashed a mischievous grin.

“I’m capturing the moment! Y’know so when we find Noct and Iggy, I can show them just how  _ worried you were.” _ He said that last part as mockingly as possible and it definitely did the trick. Gladio was on his feet in seconds, towering over Prompto with his superior height. Prompto probably would have been a little intimidated if he didn’t know Gladio would never actually hurt him.

“Oh yeah? And what if I cook that little camera of yours into my next batch of Cup Noodles?" The Shield growled, playfully grabbing for the strap around Prompto's neck. Prompto was faster, however, and he slipped away to the other corner of the room.

“Geez, didn’t know you were that embarrassed about being the Mom Friend.” He teased, and if Gladio wasn’t angry before, then Prompto  _ really  _ pissed him off with that little comment.

“I am  _ not _ the Mom friend!” 

Prompto giggled as Gladio lunged at him yet again, dodging just out of the way of a headlock

“You’re right, Iggy’s the Mom friend. You’re the Dad friend.”

"Why you-" Gladio didn’t even finish his retort before he pounced, and this time Prompto wasn’t quick enough to escape. Gladio held his neck in the crook of his right arm, not too violently, but tight enough that Prompto couldn’t wiggle away. And then he was digging his knuckles into the boy’s head, ignoring the half-hearted pleas for ‘forgiveness’ and ‘mercy.’

They were both laughing, and for a second, all was as it used to be. They were back to when they were just four boys on the open road, listening to Iggy’s terrible puns and Prompto’s mediocre singing voice, playing pranks on Noctis as he slept and reading over Gladio’s shoulder. For a second, they were happy… just like old times.

Eventually, Gladio released Prompto, whose face was bright red from laughter and squirming. Both of them shook with residual giggles. It was the first emotion other than fear, anger, and despair, that the two had felt in a long time. The simple act of "horseplay" felt so foreign, and yet so necessary.

That reprieve was short-lived, however. 

Soon enough, the smile on Gladio’s face fell and his laughter ceased. Prompto noticed the change and figured that the man had recalled their current situation. Most likely, he was thinking about Luna. Thinking about how they failed her and how he might have failed the others too.

Prompto had half a mind to join him in his sulking, to fall back into his chair and resume the uncomfortable silence that he'd already worked so hard to break. Then, he remembered his decision: to be the bright light in even the darkest of times. He would stick by Gladio’s side and keep him looking towards the dawn.

He owed Luna that much. He owed Noct and Ignis that much.

With a sigh, Prompto rested a hand on Gladio’s shoulder. He seemed surprised at the gesture, yet made no effort to move away.

"We'll find them." Prompto said, willing away any uncertainty in his voice, "I know we will."

At first, Gladio didn't respond, eyeing Prompto like he had three heads and a Chocobo beak. Prompto matched his gaze with the most determined look he could muster, and they stayed like that, regarding each other, for what felt like an eternity.

Then, Gladio smiled. He set his hand on Prompto's head and ruffled his hair.

"Yeah, you're right."

-

And so they persisted, tirelessly searching the city the next day and the day after that. They even extended their search to territory outside Altissia, and yet they found nothing.

That didn't deter the two, however. Even when the Accordan Secretary tried to press them on their plans for life without a king, Prompto merely shook his head and Gladio glared. As far as they were concerned, Noctis and Ignis were alive and waiting to be found. Until they were proven otherwise by a corpse or two, they would search.

It was on the third day since the discovery of the princess's death that a breakthrough occurred.

Gladio burst through the door to the hotel room that he and Prompto were sharing. It was in one of the un-destroyed portions of Altissia- the Secretary was allowing them to stay there for free for the foreseeable future- she said it was the least she could do after they'd helped so many people to escape the Hydrean's wrath. His face was sheet-white, just as it had been the day with Luna, and that alone was startling enough to get Prompto on his feet.

"G-Gladio? What's wrong? Weren't you taking the first shift of searching today?" Prompto paused, unsure if he should go to comfort Gladio or run from the danger that surely must have been on its way. A pit formed in his stomach when he realized that Gladio might have found their missing friends, and judging by his expression, not in good shape.

Rather than answering, Gladio shoved a newspaper in Prompto's hands. He fumbled with it, struggling to turn it the right way so that he could read it. When he  _ did  _ finally scan the headline, his eyes widened.

**New "Lucian" Wall Surrounds**

**Niflheim Capital**

Prompto wanted to dismiss the words as nothing but 'click-bait' but then his eyes drifted to the captioned picture. This newspaper was printed in color, so Prompto could clearly see the familiar, transparent blue dome that used to surround Insomnia for so many years. Except now it was around Gralea, a city Prompto had only ever seen in political propaganda and movies. Even in a picture, the city looked gloomy and industrial, a place only MTs and Daemons could like.

Seeing such a familiar fixture of Lucian magic, wrapped around such a foreign place… it felt wrong.

"A- a new wall? What does that mean? Gladio,  _ what does that mean?!"  _ Prompto stammered, voice cracking as anxiety started to well up in his chest. Gladio didn't make a sound, brows furrowed at the paper that was slowly getting crumpled in Prompto's grip.

"Gladio!?"

"...Only the ring can create a wall." Gladio murmured, so quiet that Prompto couldn't hear him at first. The confusion in the air was palpable. "And usually only someone of royal blood can wield the ring."

Hearing the words only cemented what Prompto had already been thinking. If there was a new wall, then there had to be a new wielder… right? Prompto swallowed thickly, afraid to let such a hope grow in his head.

"Does this mean… is Noct-"

Gladio shook his head, but it wasn't a dismissal. He was thinking the same as Prompto was. But if their suspicions were true, then…

Then Noctis and Ignis were in more danger than they could have ever imagined.

  
  


"I don't know." Gladio whispered.

"I don't know…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thank you so much for reading this far! I know this chapter wasn't super exciting, but it was necessary for the story. Next chapter will being with it more pain for Noctis and Iggy >:) 
> 
> If you liked it, please leave kudos and comment. I LOVE COMMENTS! Personally, I sometimes get afraid to comment on works bc I feel annoying, but trust me when I say that I will never be annoyed by any comment ever! Comments help motivate me to pump out the next chapter!
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much and I'll see you next time!


	4. Devil's Details

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis discovers some new things about the ring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry (Insert your holiday here) you guys! This is my present to y'all! Sorry about the long wait between updates, I've kinda been having a really rough go of it. School is really tough, and a family friend just lost her daughter (whom I was acquaintances with). But anyway, I really like how this chapter ended up and I hope you do too. Thank you!

Noct had only been holding the wall up for a couple hours before he felt his eyelids start to grow heavy. The Emperor and Ardyn had left some time ago, taking Ignis with them. And oh, how Noct had screamed. He'd cursed, spat, and struggled until both his wrists and throat were raw. 

Not to be free, no, he figured demanding to be let go was pretty much a fool's errand at this point. Noct screamed for Ignis's freedom. He swore to the Emperor and the Gods and anyone else who might've been listening. He swore that anyone who hurt Ignis would forever wish that they hadn't.

And yet, the only thing he accomplished with his tantrum was a sore throat and a pounding headache. He could act defiantly all he wanted, but nothing would change the fact that he'd put a wall around Gralea, just as he was told.

Noctis was actually surprised he was able to accomplish that much. It wasn't as if he'd used the ring before. But when he'd put it on, he'd felt the power of past kings rush through his veins, and with it the knowledge they'd collected over the years. He'd closed his eyes, partly so he could focus and partly because he didn't want to see Ignis's expression as he betrayed their kingdom. 

Noctis had silently prayed for his ancestors to supply him with the ability to create a wall and for a moment, Noct felt his father's influence. It was as if he was a child again, his father's large hands on his shoulders, softly instructing him on how to reel in his first fish.

But this time, instead of the familiar rumble of his father's voice, there were a hundred voices, all of them filling his mind with exactly what he needed to do. Noctis had taken a deep breath and with a flash of blue light, the wall had risen.

That had been hours ago. 

Now Noct was alone with his thoughts, which hadn't been a good thing in a very long time. He'd stopped screaming, though only because the noise aggravated his already seething headache. In no way was he ready to give up just yet. They'd slip up, give him an opening of escape. If he could just find a way to get Ignis out, then Noct could raise hell. Maybe he could even retrieve the crystal while he was at it?

As cathartic as such thoughts were, Noctis couldn't deny the exhaustion beginning to creep at the edges of his vision. He'd only been strung up like this for a few hours, and yet his shoulders were already beginning to ache. Noct knew it wasn't just that, though. 

It was as if something was seeping at his energy, drinking it away and leaving him with nothing left. He wondered if this was the price of raising a wall, of using the ring's power as his own. If it was, then how had his father managed to hold up Insomnia's wall for  _ years?  _

Which also raised the question: what would happen if Noct couldn't keep it up? If the power of the Lucii proved too much for Noct to handle, what then?

Ignis would suffer, that's what.

The memory of his advisor's screams caused Noctis to wince. He couldn't let that happen again. Even though his hands were, quite literally tied, Noctis would die before he let any more harm befall Ignis, especially due to his own actions. 

So for a long while, Noctis ignored his body's continuous pleas for rest. It wasn't so hard at first. In fact, it was just like when he used to force himself to stay awake through his advanced algebra class, a feat that even Ignis would've found difficult to accomplish.

Every time Noctis grew tired, all he had to do was picture Ignis, writhing on the floor, body convulsing from the torrent of electricity that the collar had released. The thought would jolt him back to his senses, reminding him exactly why he needed to stay awake and alert.

This method worked for quite some time. At some points, Noctis wasn't even conscious of the fact that he was doing it, only that the wall was still up and the Emperor was still out there, probably grinning smugly. At other times, he was almost painfully aware of the pull on his eyelids. There was no easy way to get through these moments, except for sheer determination. Sleep was a siren's song that Noctis desperately tried not to succumb to.

Eventually, however, his stamina ran out. His exhaustion became too much to bear, and Noctis found himself drifting off into a restless sleep. It was hard at first, considering the uncomfortable pressure on his shoulders and the ever-present threat on Ignis's life. When he finally did fall unconscious, he dreamed of Luna, and the sound she made when the dagger had pierced her stomach. It was an awful sound, an ugly cry from such a beautiful voice.

A nightmare such as this probably would have been enough to startle Noctis awake, but it seemed as if the Astrals chose to take pity on him. Slowly, his dream faded away into a peaceful blackness, allowing Noct to slip further into slumber. The last time he'd gotten a truly restful sleep felt like a year ago, back when it was just him and Prompto and Ignis and Gladio in the Regalia. Back during those blissful few days before they'd heard the news about Insomnia's fall, Noctis had had some of the best rest in his life.

This was nothing compared to that. He was still captured, strung up behind enemy lines with no guarantee that the Emperor wouldn't change his mind and decide to execute him and Ignis after all. Still, it was sleep, something Noct had desperately needed.

Unfortunately, the universe seemed determined to make him miserable. Mere minutes after he finally drifted off into his dreamless slumber, Noctis was interrupted.

He awoke to a punch in the gut. Literally. His stomach exploded in agony just as his mind regained consciousness. Suddenly he was retching and gasping for air, unable to comprehend anything other than the fact that he was in pain. 

Despite his shock, or perhaps because of it, Noctis summoned a sword to his palm. He didn't even know which one; it was simply the closest in the Armiger. Before he could use it, however, it was ripped from his grasp and clattered to the floor. Noctis made a move to summon it again, only for a hand to pull tightly on his hair, forcing him to look up.

Mind still reeling from the punch he'd suffered, it took Noctis a couple seconds to recognize his assailant. Chancellor Izunia glared down at him, his mouth curled into a sadistic grin. Noctis would've looked away if not for the hand firmly holding his head in place.

"So sorry, about the rough wake-up call, your  _ majesty."  _ Ardyn sneered, voice dripping with sarcasm. Noctis barely even heard it, still fighting the urge to vomit as pain radiated from his guts.

"Wha- what the  _ hell _ ?" He groaned, breath heaving with the effort, "What was that for?!"

"For breaking your end of the Emperor's little  _ agreement,"  _ Ardyn replied, apparently convinced of Noctis's undivided attention enough to let go of his hair. Immediately, Noct's head dropped, painfully jerking his already-tired neck muscles. But he didn't have time to recuperate; the Chancellor's words perplexed him, (as they tended to do.) He would have brushed it off as pure nonsense, but with Ignis's life on the line, Noctis needed to understand everything that was going on.

"Breaking it- what are you talking about?!" Noctis wracked his brain, trying to recollect some forgotten detail of his coerced induction into the Niflheim defense division. 

_ Put up a wall around Gralea, or Ignis dies. _

_ Stay in your restraints, or Ignis dies. _

_ Do what I say, or Ignis dies. _

It was a pretty straightforward deal, if not completely one-sided. Maybe it was due to his pain-induced haze, but Noctis couldn't think of anything he'd done to violate the Emperor's orders. He'd put up the wall, just like he was told, and he hadn't tried to escape… yet. 

Truthfully, Noctis had spent most of his alone time brainstorming possible ways to get out of this nightmare. None of his ideas had been plausible, but it wasn't like the Emperor could read his mind, so how could they possibly know if he'd "broken the agreement?"

Ardyn seemed to pick up on his confusion, quirking a brow in amusement. 

"About five minutes ago, the wall around Gralea flickered and disappeared. The Emperor sent me to investigate, and here you were: sound asleep."

Noctis felt his heart stop at the Chancellor's words. The wall had come down?

Now that Noct was thinking of it, he realized that he could no longer feel the subtle pull of magic that the wall had demanded of him since he first put on the ring. He realized, with a sinking feeling in his stomach, that the wall must have come down when he'd fallen  _ asleep _ .

The notion was baffling. His father had kept the wall up for years with no issue, and Noctis knew for a fact that the man had slept. (His snoring could be heard throughout the whole Citadel.)

"But- I didn't… I thought-" Noctis stammered, truly speechless. He'd assumed that the wall would just sustain itself, feeding off of his life energy like some kind of power source. His father had made it look so effortless. Now, Noctis realized that this wouldn't be as easy as he'd thought. How was he supposed to know that the wall would come down so easily?

Outside of his rampant thoughts, Ardyn's mischievous smirk fell, leaving behind a scathing glare. Apparently, Noct's stuttering confusion angered him somehow. He looked at Noctis as if he were something he'd scraped off the bottom of his shoe.

"You  _ thought  _ you had control over a power that isn't yours to wield." He spat, a deep hatred visible on his face. It made Noctis shiver, seeing anyone look at him with such disdain. He lost any sort of fighting spirit then and there, replaced only by a dreadful fear.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He said, so quietly it was almost a whisper. Not his to wield? Hadn't the Emperor captured him because he was the  _ sole  _ person who could use the ring? 

Something about Ardyn's tone told Noct that this was more than the usual purposefully confusing nonsense. He knew something Noctis didn't. As for what that could possibly be, however, Noct wasn't sure, and it didn't seem like the Chancellor was in the mood to give any more hints.

"Oh, you wouldn't understand," Ardyn said, the odd spark of anger receding back under a mask of playful cruelty. Suddenly, he turned to face Noctis, the crackle of magic flickering in his hand. It was black and sparking, like no spell Noctis had ever seen anyone use before. Except maybe a Daemon... "Now then, as much as I love watching you flail about helplessly, I have more important matters to attend to. So, put the wall back up and I'll be off."

Noctis sucked in a breath, eyes flickering between Ardyn's hand and face (both of which he wished weren't so close.) For a moment, he was frozen, a swirling dance of panic and exhaustion dulling any coherent thoughts. Ardyn seemed to grow impatient at his hesitation, so he added:

"Unless, of course, you want to involve poor Ignis in all of this? Like you, he's just managed to fall asleep and I'd hate to ruin that with a zap or two."

The threat brought Noctis back to reality, just as it had the last time he'd been forced to use his power. He stopped, stared, and finally dropped his head. The mysterious magic in Ardyn's palm may have startled him, but it could never placate him so quickly as a mention of Ignis could. They were playing him like a fiddle, and Ignis was the bow. Noct knew that, and yet…

He couldn't do anything to stop it.

With a shallow growl, Noctis reached out to the power of the ring once again. It came easier this time, much easier in fact. Before, it was like trying to build a dam through a torrent of rushing water: nigh impossible to control. But now, after he'd built it, it was as simple as dipping into the water and scooping some out.

In a flash of blue sparks, Noctis felt the familiar magic rush from his body, expanding and materializing until it once again formed a wall around the city. A wall around his prison.

Immediately, he felt the pressure once again. His body felt heavier, harder to hold up in his metal restraints, and his headache returned with a newfound passion.

He groaned, and all the while, Ardyn sneered. Noctis was beginning to think that was all the man could do, in regards to showing emotion. A few moments later, the Chancellor received a phone call, presumably informing him that Noctis had succeeded in his task. (Though Noctis found it hard to believe that the man couldn't feel the swell of magic surrounding them.)

Finally, Ardyn hung up and acknowledged the glaring prince.

"Ah, there we are! Good as new!" He chirped, clapping his hands together as if he hadn't just sucker-punched the last prince of Lucis in the gut, and threatened him with dark magic. He turned towards the cell door. "Well then, it's time I take my leave. Farewell!"

The Chancellor began to strut away, and Noctis mentally prepared himself for another few hours of crippling silence and worrying about Ignis. But then, as he reached the door, Ardyn stopped. He spoke with a cruel lilt, never turning back around.

"If I were you, I'd learn how to keep that wall up in your sleep. Otherwise, the Emperor might just take the privilege away."

With that, Ardyn left, leaving Noct in two prisons: the one for his body, and the one for his mind. 

For the next 12 hours, Noctis would stay completely awake.

-

Around six hours after Ardyn's wake up call, Noctis discovered that he could fall into a sort of "trance" to somewhat diminish his exhaustion. It wasn't Stasis, like when he overused his magic. It wasn't sleep either. He never allowed his eyes to close. No, that would definitely result in him falling unconscious and the wall coming down once again. He didn't think his guts could take another punch.

This trance was more of a "break" than anything else. Noct would relax his body as much as the metal frame would allow. Then, he would try his best to clear his mind of all thoughts, save for keeping up the wall. This method, while not as refreshing as sleep would be, kept Noct from passing out again.

He knew he should've been thinking about Iggy, thinking about possible ways to escape, but he was burned out. Too much had happened too quickly, and his brain felt like goo. He needed rest, even if it was just by  _ not _ thinking.

By the time there was a sound outside the door, Noct wasn't even aware enough to notice. His eyes were affixed to the floor, imagining pictures in the details of the concrete.

Beyond the confines of his cell was the mechanical whirring of MTs. Their footsteps were obnoxiously clunky, methodical. One could hear them coming from a mile away. (This general lack of stealth had been one of the only advantages Lucian soldiers had during the war.) Their footsteps reared closer and closer, following the open and close of the door, and yet Noctis didn't so much as lift his head. 

He just didn't have the energy at the moment to deal with whatever was about to happen. Maybe this was that execution he was worried about? Maybe the Emperor finally realized that a sleep-deprived, twenty-year-old captive wasn't the best choice for defending his city? Noctis considered this and found that he couldn't even bring himself to feel upset. 

He was just so damn  _ tired.  _ At least if they killed him now, he could finally get some shut-eye. 

So for a few moments, he didn't react, knowing full well that there were a couple killing machines mere feet from his bound body. Strangely enough, no one spoke. Noctis expected there to be at least one human accompanying the robots, maybe Ardyn again or even the Emperor. But instead, there was only silence. This lack of communication almost made Noctis consider raising his head, but he decided against it. Whoever was in here with him didn't deserve his reaction.

He probably would've continued stubbornly glaring at the floor for an eternity, had a light tap on his shoulder not gotten his undivided attention. It was a gentle touch, polite, so unlike anything he'd received since the disaster in Altissia. The change startled Noct, more so than Ardyn's punch had. He looked up and gasped.

"Iggy?"

Standing in front of him was his friend once again. He was just as disheveled as he'd been the last time Noct had seen him, (which honestly felt like days ago). His hair was dirty and limp, his clothes stained with water and blood, and of course, there was that damn collar. But still, it was Ignis, alive if not well. Noctis's breath caught in his throat.

"IGGY!" He yelped, suddenly overcome with emotion. Tears pricked at his eyes and Noctis was just barely able to swallow them down. Even now, he couldn't forget himself. He was a Prince- no, a King. He couldn't cry, at least not here.

That didn't mean he had to ignore his friend, however.

He lurched forward, briefly forgetting that his body was bound as he tried to go in for a hug. Luckily, Ignis seemed to understand the frustration in his eyes. He closed the distance, wrapping his arms around Noctis as best as he could with the metal contraption in the way. Ignis's grip was tight, betraying his own relief at seeing Noctis once again. Unable to reciprocate the embrace, Noctis simply buried his face into Ignis's neck.

They hugged for a long time, though not nearly as long as Noctis would have liked. Eventually, Iggy pulled away, and if his cheeks were a little shinier than before, Noctis didn't mention it.

"Are you okay?" Noctis finally asked, only to stop short. The memory of Iggy, writhing in pain as electricity shot from his collar, played back in Noct's mind, reminding him of exactly what would happen if Ignis spoke.

_ Can't have the Advisor to the King, advising the King, now can we? _

"Wait- don't answer that," Noctis added, though, by the looks of it, Ignis hadn't planned on it. He just silently shook his head. Noctis grimaced.

Thinking about Ignis's inability to speak was a brutal reminder of the situation at large, of everything that had happened since Altissia. One bad thought led to another worse one, and once again, Noctis found himself overcome with emotion.

"Ignis…I- I'm so sorry. This is all my fault- if I hadn't been so weak… we wouldn't… they- I just sat there while Luna-" A sob caught in Noctis's throat. He swallowed, desperate to maintain that last bit of dignity he had left. But then the image of Luna's bloody corpse flashed into his head, and he could hold it back no longer. "Gods- they killed Luna! And they hurt you- and then- hic- I put up the wall- just like they  _ fucking _ told me to! I couldn't do anything! Look at me! I'm the last King of Lucis and I'm in a cell! I- hic- I just-"

Noctis was hyperventilating, choking on his own despair. How could he have been so stupid? All of this was his own fault. He'd never taken his duties as a prince seriously, he'd never been able to face his father's death like an adult.

Instead, he'd run, and hid, and allowed his friends to clean up his messes for him. And look where that got him: restrained, a slave to the Empire. And maybe that would've been fine, if not for Ignis being there with him. Nothing could ever be fine, so long as Ignis was suffering for Noct's own mistakes. 

Hot tears streamed down Noct's cheeks, tears he'd been refusing to shed for so long. But everyone had a breaking point it seemed, and now he couldn't stop if he tried.

Somewhere, in the part of his mind that wasn't drowning in hopelessness, Noctis wondered what Ignis must be thinking, seeing the last heir to the throne of Lucis, crying his eyes out while attached to a metal frame. 

He must have been angry, must have finally realized that Noctis was a waste of time. He must have decided by now to abandon him, perhaps join the Empire instead. And somehow, Noctis would have to live with that. It would hurt, gods it would be like a thousand swords digging into his chest. But still, Noctis would feel worse knowing that Ignis only stayed with him out of pity.

He decided then, to make his feelings known. He would tell Ignis that he didn't have to hang around the guy who got him into this mess. It was the right thing to do, no matter how much the thought made Noctis sick. 

He'd only just managed to level his breathing enough to speak when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up slowly, prepared to see unspeakable anger on Ignis's face.

Instead, he was met by a sad smile. Ignis gently took Noctis's face in his hands, wiping the tears from his cheeks. Noctis froze, unsure of what he was supposed to do, and before he could figure it out, Iggy leaned forward, catching Noct in another embrace. And despite his forced silence, it was as if Noctis heard the words Ignis wanted to say.

_ It's not your fault. _

Perhaps he was reading too much into it, he told himself. Perhaps he was so sleep-deprived, that he'd slipped into a waking dream in which Ignis could somehow not blame him for the situation that was so clearly his fault. But honestly, if that were the case, Noctis was having a hard time finding the urge to care.

He melted into Ignis's arms, tears falling once again as his emotions took a second wind.

"Iggy…" Noctis whispered. He wanted to apologize again, wanted to stop crying, and be strong like was supposed to. But honestly, Ignis looked just as tired as Noct himself was. And maybe… maybe right now the best thing Noct could do to help was by simply accepting the hug.

"Thank you."

They stayed like that for a few minutes once again, until Noctis stopped shaking and his tears ran dry. It was strange. Even though nothing about the situation had changed, Noctis suddenly felt a million times better. With just one hug, Ignis had halted his mental breakdown. And that was either testament to just how much Noct relied on his advisor, or prove that Ignis somehow possessed magical hugs.

Either way, Noctis finally felt the fog in his head clear, at least a bit. He took a deep breath when a stray thought demanded his attention.

It seemed unlikely that the Emperor would just let Ignis "drop by" his cell for a visit. Something else must have been at play.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" He asked, before remembering that Ignis couldn't answer. Old habits die hard, apparently. Before he could amend his statement, however, Ignis motioned to a small metal cart near the door. He must have brought it in earlier, while Noctis wasn't watching. On it, was a tray containing two pieces of burnt-looking toast and a glass of water.

Noctis raised a brow.

"You… brought me food?" He questioned, but he could tell by Ignis's expression, that that wasn't the whole story. The MTs by the door shifted threateningly as if listening to their conversation. Noctis had honestly forgotten about their presence during his emotional outburst. Now, they were the most prominent things in the room, providing a clue as to Ignis's role in all of this. After a second or two, it clicked. "They  _ made _ you bring me food."

Ignis hesitated at first, clearly not wanting to insinuate that he'd been forced to care for Noct. Soon enough, however, he offered a solemn nod. Noctis frowned. 

Though happy to see his friend, it was strange that the Empire would go out of their way to have Ignis feed him, rather than some robot or something. Before Noctis could ponder it for too long, however, there was a glass of water at his lips.

Ignis stared at him expectantly, urging him to drink, and without really thinking about it, Noctis took a sip. (It likely wasn't poisoned or drugged, considering the Emperor wanted him alive and awake.) He gasped. As soon as the water hit his tongue, Noctis was lapping it up like a dog in the desert. Apparently, he was more dehydrated than he'd thought. The water was slightly discolored and tasted a little weird, but it was also ice-cold and refreshing. (Gods bless the fact that Nifleheim was covered in snow)

It was so mundane, Ignis helping him drink, that Noctis almost forgot where they were. It was like they were back home, in Insomnia, arguing over homework and speeches and vegetables. Or maybe, going really far back, it was like when Noctis was bedridden, after the Marilith attack. Ignis had helped him sit up then, despite the agony that shot through his back when he'd tried to do so. And then he'd held a cup of water to his lips, just like he did now.

By the time Noctis snapped himself out of memory lane, there were only a few sips left. He stopped drinking immediately, turning his head so Ignis would pull the cup away.

"Wait- what about you? Have they given you anything?" He blurted, suddenly realizing that the Empire might not take such "good care" of the prisoner not holding up their wall.

Ignis hesitated at the question, fiddling with his broken glasses before nodding. Noctis frowned.

"You're lying. You always mess with your glasses when you lie." Ignis paled, clearly caught off-guard by Noctis's perception. Noct probably would've felt smug about it if he weren't preoccupied with his friend's health. "Drink the rest. You need it more than I do."

Without hesitation, Ignis shook his head, shoving the cup back in Noctis's face. Anger flared up in Noct's chest at his friend's foolish behavior. He pressed his lips into a firm line as if he were a kid refusing to eat his veggies once again. When Ignis retreated with the cup, Noctis let him have it.

"Now's not the time to be selfless, Iggy! If we're gonna get out of here, we both need our strength up, not just me!" Noct yelled, and he meant every word. If he couldn't protect Iggy directly, he could at least make sure he didn't die of dehydration.

Ignis didn't seem to agree with the sentiment, but, perhaps, after staring into Noct's eyes and seeing the conviction inside of them, he decided it wasn't worth the fight. Ignis pulled the glass to his own lips, tilting it back slowly.

Noctis could see the relief flood Ignis's face as soon as the water hit his mouth. He drank it even more ravenously than Noctis had, for once losing the "perfectly groomed" aesthetic that he worked so hard to maintain. It would've been funny under different circumstances, but now, it just served as a reminder of how low the two of them had sunk.

_ How low Noctis had dragged them both. _

Noct shook the nasty thought from his mind, and by the time he did, Ignis had finished off the water. He set the cup down on the tray, like a butler would a teacup, as if trying to revive some small ounce of decorum after his crude display. It didn't exactly do much, but if it helped Ignis feel a little better, then who was Noctis to judge?

Instead, Noctis turned his attention to more important matters.

"Do you have any idea of how long we've been here?" He asked. For all Noctis knew, a week could have passed since they'd been captured in Altissia. Perhaps since Ignis was being held somewhere else, he'd have seen a window or heard some guards talking. Ignis froze at the question, grabbing his chin between his thumb and the side of his forefinger. Noctis recognized this as the classic “Thinking-Pose.” It was the pose Ignis assumed whenever he needed to calculate something difficult, be it Noct’s Calculus homework, a new recipe, or a battle plan. Noctis figured the pose helped Ignis to gather his thoughts somehow, though he’d tried it once while he was alone with little results. Now, Ignis struck the pose, standing still as a statue until he came up with an answer.

After a few moments, Ignis looked Noctis in the eyes and held up three fingers.

"Three days?" Noctis guessed. Ignis teetered his hand side to side in reply, indicating that it was merely a rough estimate. Noctis sighed, deflated.

"Gods, Prompto and Gladio must be worried sick… if they're even alive…"

Ignis shot him a pointed look.

"You're right, you're right. I can't think like that."

Seemingly satisfied with Noctis’s reply, Ignis turned, picking up a piece of toast and holding it to Noctis's face. It looked dry and stale, probably the scraps of some Imperial's breakfast. Still, it was food, something Noctis hadn't had the luxury of even thinking about in so very long. His stomach grumbled just looking at it, but he held himself back. Instead, he shot Ignis the most serious glare he could muster.

"I'll eat it, but only if you promise to eat the other one. Okay?" Once again, Ignis hesitated. Clearly, he’d assumed that Noctis’s earlier stubbornness would have worn off by now, overshadowed by hunger. He couldn’t have been more wrong, however. Noctis would sooner starve before he let Ignis starve himself.

They stared at each other for a few more moments before Ignis relented once again. Only after he took a bite, did Noctis allow himself to be fed. And they continued on like that, taking turns eating the crumbly bread. It wasn’t exactly comparable to Ignis’s own cooking, but something about sharing a meal with his friend put Noctis at ease. Again, it was as if he was back on the road, ready to set up camp for the night at the nearest haven. He probably would have disappeared into the fantasy completely, were it not for the restraints cutting into his skin.

They ate in silence for what felt like years. By the time they were done, Noctis wished they’d kept some of that water around to bring moisture back to his dry-toast-mouth. While Iggy wiped his own mouth with the edge of his sleeve, (clearly disgusted by the lack of a napkin) Noctis’s mind wandered back to the situation at hand.

It was strange, Ignis’s presence here. Noctis had assumed that he’d never see his friend again, at least not until he was able to escape. He certainly hadn’t expected the Emperor to send Ignis with food and water. Who was to say that Ignis couldn’t free him? Maybe bust open the restraints so Noctis would be able to get the collar off? Noctis had never been great at strategy, but allowing your prisoners to meet basically unsupervised seemed… strange.

Unable to come up with an explanation himself, Noctis turned to Iggy. "Not that I'm complaining, but why would they want you to bring me food? Isn't that kind of a security risk?"

Ignis regarded him for a moment, an emotion that Noctis couldn’t name on his face. Then, silently, Ignis pointed to the MTs, still standing at attention in front of the door. Noctis looked at them, studied their silver skin and unblinking eyes. He tilted his head.

"Uh specs, apparently you're not that great at charades, because I have no idea what you're trying to say."

Ignis actually let out a huff at that, a sound halfway between amusement and annoyance. Luckily, it didn’t set off the electrical collar. Try as he might’ve, Noctis still couldn’t understand the point that Ignis was trying to get across. Perhaps Ignis would be able to snatch a paper and pen at some point. It would surely make communication easier. 

Once it became apparent that Noct just wasn’t getting it, Ignis must have decided to change tactics. In one fluid motion, Ignis stepped up to Noctis’s trapped hand and pressed it up against his chest. Noctis could feel the steady heartbeat, right underneath his fingers.

"What are you-" Then it clicked. "It's proof of life."

He’d heard the term before, back when he’d had to take all of those “How Not To Get Kidnapped” classes as a kid. If someone is holding you hostage, perhaps for ransom, they might take pictures of you and send them to your family to prove that they haven’t killed you yet. Feeling Iggy’s heart beneath his palm, Noctis realized that that’s exactly what this was.

"They… they want to show me that you're alive… so I don't stop cooperating?

Ignis only nodded, his face grim. Noctis could almost hear him saying 'I'm afraid so' in his sophisticated, Tenebraen accent.

"Bastards! Every last one of them!" Noctis growled, and as if to prove his point, the MTs at the door suddenly roared to life. "What the-" 

In seconds, they were on Ignis, one grabbing at his wrists and the other grabbing the cart. Ignis squawked in surprise, earning himself a swift shock from his collar. The MTs took advantage of his punishment, effortlessly dragging him to the door. Meanwhile, Noctis could only watch the scene play out. 

"STOP IT! LET HIM GO!" He shouted, struggling against the metal frame holding him taut. The MTs paid him no mind, neither did Ignis for that matter, who was still recovering from the electricity in his veins. He looked dead, honestly, and that only made Noctis struggle harder.

It seemed that, while the Emperor wanted him to have contact with his friend, he wasn't so generous as to forgo a time limit. Apparently, that limit had been reached for the day. Noctis would have to watch Ignis be dragged away like a rabid dog once more.

The thought sparked a flame in Noct's heart.  _ No _ . He wouldn't let this happen. Not again.

Before he really thought about it, Noctis felt the ring on his finger swell up with power. All of his anger, his fear, all of it rushed into the ancient band. And then, like lightning, he struck.

A haze of blue light engulfed the MTs, caressing and tightening around their metal bodies while leaving Ignis perfectly unharmed. The magic swayed and pulsed around the MTs until Noctis could feel their very lifeforce entering his veins. Suddenly, all of the exhaustion that had haunted him since his altercation with Ardyn faded away. It was like he'd just woken up from a 10-hour sleep, alert and ready to take on anyone or anything.

Noctis actually blacked out for a second, his body overwhelmed by the shock of energy racing through it. When he came to, however, he noticed two things.

The first was Ignis's expression: completely and utterly  _ aghast.  _ He'd recovered from the electricity and now he gaped at Noct like he'd seen a ghost. Or maybe something worse.

The  _ second  _ thing Noct noticed, was the pair of MTs. They laid on the ground, motionless. Their bodies…

Noctis gasped.

Their bodies were stick thin, emaciated, like crushed soda cans. They both were the spitting image of those PSAs about eating disorders that the school would always show, back when Noctis was still _ in _ school. 

Looking at the desecrated bodies, Noctis suddenly understood why Ignis was staring at him so strangely. Noctis had done this. He'd used the ring to suck the very life out of the two MTs and… and given it to himself? That would explain the sudden boost in energy.

Still, it was hard to believe. It wasn't like he'd known how to do such a thing. He'd needed to beg his ancestors for help just to figure out how to create the wall. This time, he'd had no such guidance. There was only instinct, an unconscious reaction to a threat.

And now the threat was gone…

Noctis and Ignis met eyes for a moment, both of them asking the same silent question.

_ What now? _

Unfortunately, they couldn't piece together an answer before a blaring screech filled the air. It was a siren, outrageously loud and annoying, but only Ignis had the luxury of covering his ears. With his hands bound out to the sides, Noctis had no way to protect himself from the grating sound. 

He screamed, eyes clenched shut and head tilting to press his ear into his shoulder, a hopeless attempt to block out the noise. And in front of him, merely a few feet away, more MTs started to swarm.

Ignis tried to stand up, tried to rush to Noct, but there were too many of them. By the time the siren stopped and Noctis dared to open his eyes, the door to his cell was closed.

Ignis was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! We've got some new developments regarding Noctis and the Ring. (Next Chapter will be more from Ignis's POV) Please leave kudos or a comment, they absolutely make my day! I love hearing what you guys think! Once again, merry (Insert your holiday here)! I'll see you next time! :)


	5. Pastries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis has a moment to think, while Gladio and Prompto see a familiar face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So sorry for the long wait between updates! This one has been in the works for quite a while. to be perfectly honest with y'all I'm having a lot of trouble getting motivated to do anything, let alone write. Still, I got it done and I hope you enjoy it! :)

Ever since Ignis was a boy, newly appointed as advisor and friend to Prince Noctis, he'd had a bad habit. Oftentimes, Ignis' mind would run away from him, hunting down flashes of ideas, trying to solve made-up problems, not always heading somewhere in particular, but always on the move nonetheless. It was the reason he did so well in school and all of his extra Etiquette lessons, the constant movement serving as an excellent study tool. It was probably the reason he'd been picked as Noct's advisor at all. It was also the reason he couldn't sleep well at night, his mind racing with every possible scenario and problem that could potentially befall him in the near future. (Or the far future, depending on just how far his mind had elected to run that night.)

The adults had called him "mature for his age," sometimes "precocious" if they were being subtle, but deep down, both they and Ignis knew there was more to it than that. They knew that it wasn't normal for a boy so young to be so constantly worried, but they also knew that Ignis was the future advisor to the king of Lucis. "Worrying" was part of the job description.

It wasn't until Ignis was ten years old when he made himself physically ill over a political report (one that he had only been allowed to even read because Cor had thought it would be good practice,) that his uncle finally took him to the crown psychologist. There, he was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder and given a bottle of pills and a weekly therapy appointment. (Paid for by the crown of course.)

At first, Ignis had been mortified, disgusted with himself. How could he advise the prince someday if his brain didn't function properly? The fate of the kingdom would rest on his shoulders, and what would happen if he wasn't strong enough to hold it up? Would he always need to rely on the orange bottle of pills on his bathroom sink? What if he forgot to take them? Or if he took too much? What if in five years, they discover that the medication he'd been taking was toxic and caused deterioration of the brain?!

Needless to say, the diagnosis had done nothing to relieve Ignis's hyperactive fears. If anything, they were exacerbated. Before, he had been a tad strange, sure, but it'd been nothing that couldn't be fixed with a bit of growing. Now, he was damaged, broken. No matter what the doctors told him, Ignis knew that he was unfit to guide anyone, let alone the next king of Lucis.

Funnily enough, it was actually Noctis that was able to convince him otherwise.

Ignis was still ten when Niflheim made an attempt on the Prince's life, forcing him to recover in Tenebrae; and Ignis had just turned eleven when the Prince and King narrowly escaped the province before the Empire's annexation. He remembered waiting anxiously outside the Citadel for his eight-year-old friend to arrive, petrified at the thought of the heir to the throne being hurt. The adults had kept the details from him, most likely trying to prevent him from running himself ragged with worry. What they didn't realize was that  _ not _ knowing only made Ignis's brain run faster, jumping from possibility to possibility like a gigantoad on steroids. 

Ignis had just about made himself sick by the time the King's Regalia pulled into the Citadel courtyard. It was just the one car, no envoy. Ignis had thought that that was strange until he realized that  _ no one else had survived the attack.  _ Silently, the King had left the car and began walking up the many steps to the Citadel. Guards and servants rushed to attend to him, but he waved them away. In his arms, wrapped tightly around his neck, was Prince Noctis.

The Prince had been awake, eyes open, yet void of all emotion. He'd looked dead, a great contrast to the lively little boy that Ignis had known before. After the King and the Prince were whisked away into the Citadel, presumably for political meetings and recuperation, Ignis had asked if the Prince would be okay. The adults said yes, but Ignis's racing mind had known better.

Later, Ignis would find out that Noctis was wheelchair-bound. Not permanently, thank the Six. (No, actually thank Sylva Via Fleuret.) Still, he would need extensive physical therapy in order to stand on his own two feet again, and his magic growth was apparently completely stunted. It was everything Ignis had feared, everything he'd agonized over while tossing and turning at night, all wrapped in a horrific bow. He felt as though he'd failed his Prince, despite knowing that he hadn't even been there during the attack. But that's just it, isn't it? Maybe if he had been at Noctis's side, things would have been different? Maybe the Marilith would have targeted Ignis instead, leaving Noctis unharmed?

If Ignis couldn't have protected him with his strength, then maybe he could've at least used his body as a shield?

The thought had eaten away at Ignis's mind, and it soon came to be that he couldn't feel at peace unless Noctis was in his sight. It was as if he needed proof that the prince was still breathing, otherwise, he could be taken away, this time permanently. Of course, sticking to the Prince like glue came with its own detriments. 

Noctis hadn't been himself since the attack. He was quiet, sullen, and quick to anger. Ignis could recognize from his own therapy that these were tell-tale signs of trauma, so he let it go at first. So what if Noctis snapped at him now and again? At least... he was alive. But time went on and Noctis had remained unchanged. The carefree, childish Prince was gone and every second Ignis spent with him became another reminder of that. 

Slowly but surely, Ignis realized that the Prince wouldn't be returning to normal anytime soon. Even after he regained the ability to walk, the mental scars left by the Marilith would most likely remain. And for a while, Ignis felt great despair, knowing that there was nothing he could do to help his Prince. He was a failure all over again, a sham of an advisor, and his mind had no trouble reminding him of that fact every time he saw the Prince's blank stare. There was truly nothing he could do, and Ignis loathed that fact more than anything else.

He probably would have drowned in that loathing, let it consume him until he went fully insane, were it not for one fateful afternoon.

Noctis had been in the gardens, Ignis at his side, like always. The Prince was nibbling on a small cream-filled pastry, one that Ignis had gone to great lengths to procure for him, seeing as it was close to supper time and the royal chefs were mostly busy. Despite his treat, Noctis seemed particularly sullen.

After a few, agonizingly gloomy minutes, Ignis had finally inquired as to why the Prince seemed so dissatisfied with his snack. To his surprise, Noctis replied rather openly. Apparently, there had been a pastry in Tenebrae, the best he'd ever had. It had been gooey and flaky and sweet, but not too sweet. Not to mention, Noctis had shared it with Princess Lunafreya. The prince explained that his current treat reminded him painfully of the Tenebraen one, which accounted for his poor mood.

And Ignis had laughed.

The fact that the source of Noctis's upset was nothing more than a longing for a treat he'd once had? It was so… simple, so unlike any of the other hardships that had befallen him lately. And Ignis had laughed because he couldn't fix Noctis's legs, or his mood, or Tenebrae.

But dang it, he could make a pastry.

After that, Ignis had wheeled Noctis into the kitchens for an afternoon spent trying to recreate the elusive Tenebraen treat. Of course, by the end of it, the two of them were covered head to toe in flour and had barely managed to create a passable  _ Pop-Tart _ . Then, the cooks had scolded the two for making such a mess and they were both subsequently sent to do homework. Still, the Prince smiled that day.

Soon, it became a tradition. Whenever he found the time, Ignis would try his best to create the pastry, and each time, it would be off. Sometimes there would be too much flour or it would taste too nutty. The Prince's picky tongue would always find exactly what was wrong and Ignis would attempt to fix it the next time around. It was always wrong, and yet each time Ignis tried, the Prince would smile.

Finally, there was something Ignis could do to brighten his Prince's day. Finally, he could be the right-hand man that the future king would need. Finally… he was the friend that Noctis deserved.

And Ignis realized, on the day that Noctis was buried in flour and smiling like an idiot, that he couldn't waste time constantly worrying about what could go wrong at any given moment. He realized that he needed to focus on fixing things after the fact.

And he realized that sometimes, "fixing things" meant failing at recreating a pastry for your best friend.

-

Ignis had grown quite a bit since those days. He still felt flashes of anxiety every now and again, but for the most part, he handled it well. He channeled his overactive mind into his job, and when that didn't work, well there was no harm in taking it out on a monster or two. Ignis typically handled his disorder so well, that sometimes even he forgot that it was there.

But now, things had changed.

Perhaps it was because he hadn't been on medication since the beginning of the road trip, or perhaps the circumstances were just extenuating, but when the lights had flashed and the sirens had blared, Ignis hadn't been able to breathe. The MTs had dragged him away, and ever since, Ignis's thoughts began to run the race that they'd deserted long ago.

_ Would Noctis be punished for defending him? Would he be hurt? Would they be allowed to see each other again?  _

Normally, when his mind was this distraught, he would cook something. Be it a pastry for Noct, or a dinner at camp, cooking always helped to calm his nerves. But here in his cell, there was nothing to cook, not that any kind of stove could even fit inside.

He was being held in what almost seemed to be an abandoned section of Zegnautus Keep's dungeons. His cell was small, with three concrete walls and one made up of thick metal bars. It probably would have been about 5×5ft if not for the mountain of boxes and paperwork that were shoved haphazardly inside. Ignis had methodically gone through them upon waking up (his broken glasses made this quite a challenge), but found only ancient tax reports and the like. Nothing that could potentially reveal some secret Niflheim weakness.

It was almost insulting actually. Ignis's cell was one of many lining a hallway and only his was being used as storage. The rest were completely empty, save for some mysterious splotches of black goo that coated the floors. (At least Ignis didn't have to deal with  _ that. _ ) And yet, while Ignis already felt claustrophobia creeping after a day or two in confinement, his own discomfort paled in comparison to what Noct must have been going through.

Noctis's cell was bigger, but it was also more impregnable. From what Ignis remembered after his two visits, it was in a much deeper part of the Keep with MTs posted outside the door. Not to mention, Noctis was strung up like a marionette, unable to move an inch or rest. Clearly, the Emperor considered Noct a bigger security threat. Ignis's chest constricted just thinking about how much pain he must be in, how scared he must be.

_ What if he's panicking? _

_ What if he's hurt? _

_ What if he needs him?! _

And then there was the whole pressure plate thing. Ignis tried to ignore how much it stung, knowing that Noctis's escape was prevented because he refused to hurt  _ him.  _ Because he was  _ protecting  _ him. Ignis would gladly give his life for Noctis. It was his  _ job,  _ for Six's sake! And yet, Noctis seemed to have it backward.

On that note, something about this entire situation bugged Ignis to no end. 

Since waking up about two and a half days ago, Ignis could not summon a weapon. It was as if the whole Armiger had been shut off from his access. But who could possibly have the power to do such a thing? And why hadn't they done so for Noctis?

Ignis's working theory was that they needed Noctis to be able to use his power so that he could wield the Ring, but that still seemed like a major risk. Then again, perhaps that's what the threat on Ignis's life was meant to resolve? To be perfectly honest, Ignis was running on about ¼ of a cup of water and a slice of toast, which was severely limiting his cognitive abilities.

He sighed inwardly, realizing that no amount of worrying would get him back to Noct. He would just have to rely on the fact that the Empire clearly wanted the two of them alive to ease his mind, at least until he was allowed to see Noctis once again. Until such a time, perhaps it would be best to try and sleep?

He'd only just settled on a bed of old files and boxes when the person he mentally dubbed, "the Purple-Haired Bastard," came strolling down the hall of cells.

"My, my, is the puppy worried about his master?" Ardyn sneered, settling lazily on the bars of Ignis's cage, and Ignis wanted nothing more than to tell him to fuck off. Unfortunately, such a move would bring him unbearable pain, thanks to the collar around his throat.

Ignis scowled. Of all the things the Empire had done to him, taking away his freedom of speech was perhaps the most undignified. And it didn't help that Ardyn kept referring to him as a dog. (Ignis wondered if the collar was his idea of a joke.)

Ardyn paid no mind to Ignis's fury, picking at his nails like some kind of bratty high school girl.

"What a stupendous show his Majesty put on earlier, hm?" He mused, "It's amazing what that little ring can do, isn't it? He must really care for you!"

Again, Ignis glared.

"Oh, don't give me that look. The King is throwing a fit as we speak, begging the Emperor not to hurt you as punishment for his actions. Honestly, it's quite pathetic." Ignis straightened at this, eyes widening in fear. Because clearly they hadn't punished Ignis himself for Noct's outburst, but certainly such an event wouldn't be ignored. If Ignis wasn't the one to take the fall, then it would surely be Noctis. He paled at the thought.

Apparently, Ignis's panic reached his face because Ardyn tsked.

"Hm? Oh, you needn't worry. Neither you nor Noctis will be punished for this little  _ incident,  _ a mercy for which you have me to thank." Ardyn said, his gaze zeroing in on Ignis's face, most likely searching for a reaction. A reaction, that Ignis couldn't help but provide. What could Ardyn mean?

"The Emperor doesn't know about this, and I intend to keep it that way. If he found out, well… let's just say that he was never too keen on taking the Prince alive."

"He wanted to use the ring himself, wielding its ultimate power for Niflheim for all of eternity. However, after what happened to the poor Commander Ravus, I was able to convince him to seek out a better option."

"However, should it be too much trouble to force Noctis to do the Empire's bidding, then the Emperor will gladly go back to plan A. If he found out about Noct's little fit? He might just decide that this whole charade isn't worth it."

At this point, Ignis couldn't comprehend what he was hearing. Why would  _ Ardyn,  _ who seemed to harbor an acute hatred for Noctis and the royal family as a whole, want to protect him? Surely it would have been easier to simply kill Noctis on the altar just as he did Lunafreya? As much as it hurt to think about it, Ignis knew that he wouldn't have been able to stop Ardyn had he decided to harm the Prince. 

Truly, Ardyn was the reason the Prince wasn't a corpse being fished out of a lake at the moment. The question was, why?

As if reading Ignis's thoughts, Ardyn smirked.

"I imagine you're wondering why I care whether or not the Emperor chooses to keep the situation as is? Well, let's just say… I have my own plans for the young King, and right now he's exactly where I want him."

Ah, there it was. The ulterior motive. Ignis bared his teeth, unable to do much else to express his anger. He knew it wasn't exactly threatening, coming from a man in a cage and a collar, but he hoped he at least conveyed a simple message.

_ You touch him, and I will kill you. _

It was unclear whether Ardyn understood the message or not. He simply adjusted his hat and leaned further into the bars.

"But enough about Noct, I'm curious about  _ you."  _ He mused, "You seem like an intelligent fellow. I wonder if you've realized how much better off you'd be with that royal brat dragging you down?"

"You don't have to be confined to this cage. You  _ could  _ join the Emperor. Stand at his side, as you have done for the Prince for so long?"

Ignis wasn't sure what Ardyn stood to gain by offering such a deal. Surely he was far more valuable as a hostage than an ally? Perhaps Ardyn meant to isolate Noctis even further, showing him that even his closest friends would leave him? Perhaps he was just lying, trying to lull Ignis into a false sense of security before stabbing him in the gut like he did Princess Luna? Yes, Ardyn lied quite often. However, he was telling the truth about one thing.

Ignis  _ had  _ stayed by the Prince's side.

See, Ignis wasn't just your average Chamberlain. He didn't just make sure Noctis got to his appointments on time or reminded him to read political reports. He was a listening ear, a shoulder to lean on. Sure, he got on Noct's case about eating vegetables, but he also made him pastries to remind him of the ones he'd eaten so long ago. 

Noctis meant everything to him, no,  _ more  _ than everything. And yet Ardyn believed that he could be swayed to betrayal after a few honeyed words? That he would think Ignis would betray his king, his duty, his  _ friend?  _ Clearly, Ardyn had no idea who he was dealing with.

Without a word, Ignis moved closer to the bars until his and Ardyn's faces were almost touching. Then, he spit.

"Agh- damn you!" Ardyn cursed, hurriedly wiping his face with his sleeve. Ignis simply sat back and smiled to himself. Gladio would be so jealous. Ignis's mental celebration didn't last as long as he would've liked. Ardyn quickly recovered, a ghastly sneer stretched across his face.

"Fine then, rot in here for the rest of your days. It matters little to me." He spat, "Just remember that the Prince's fate is in my hands."

With those words, Ardyn left, leaving Ignis alone with the cell and the files and the boxes and the goo and his broken glasses and his racing thoughts.

-

The day after the new wall went up, the remaining leaders of Altissia had a… well it couldn't exactly be called a "meeting." That would imply that those in attendance were calm and professional as they explained the situation and how to best deal with it.  _ This  _ was more along the lines of a gathering, a gathering of around ten, panicking adults, yelling at each other in a windowless spare room about why everything was everybody else's fault.

Among these adults, was the Secretary (who was doing her best to keep order and failing miserably), Gladio (who started yelling the second someone tried to blame Ignis for the death of the Oracle and the disappearance of the King), and Prompto (who didn't have much to contribute and really just wanted melt into the concrete walls). There were also several Accordan political officers, who seemed to care more about the "who did what?" than anything else.

"Thanks to the Princess's stunt with the Hydrean, Altissia is all but destroyed! Who's gonna pay for the repairs to fix our city?" The Master of Infrastructure squeaked.

"Maybe you should worry less about your wallet for a moment and look at the big picture. The Empire has the Ring of the Lucii and they are clearly able to use it. If we don't act fast, then the world could be taken over by the end of this week." The Master of Military bellowed.

"Our citizens won't last till the end of this week if we don't get some more permanent shelters in place. Our people's well-being should be our first priority." The Master of Social Programs cried.

Finally, Gladio had had enough of the chatter. As the biggest man in the room by far, all he had to do was slam his fist on the conference table to earn everyone's attention. The room fell silent.

"No, our first priority should be storming the Empire and rescuing Noct and Ignis! Or did you forget about them?" He growled. Several of the politicians shrunk into their suits. Despite his terrifying demeanor, Prompto could see through Gladio easily. He was scared, terrified about what might be happening to Ignis and Noctis as they speak. Were they even still alive? No one knew for sure.

The only person other than Prompto who seemed relatively unphased by Gladio’s outburst was the Secretary. She simply took a deep breath and looked him right in the eyes.

"Mr. Amicitia, we've been over this already. We cannot afford to send our few remaining troops to their deaths on the off-chance that the prince and his advisor haven't been executed already. It might be wise for us, moving forward, to work under the assumption that they did not survive the attack."

Prompto flinched. Her voice was so even, so matter-of-fact, and yet was talking about the possibility of two of his friends being six-feet-under. Gladio seemed just as shaken.

"Bullshit!" He snapped, "You telling me the Empire just  _ had _ someone who could wield the Ring laying around? It woulda' taken them weeks to find someone worthy!" The Secretary put up her hand to quiet him, but Gladio was already on a roll. "That wall is up because Noctis put it up! I'm sure of it."

For a few seconds, no one dared to disagree; probably out of fear that Gladio would melt them with his glare. Prompto had almost decided to break the ice, but the Master of Military beat him to it.

"If that does turn out to be true and Prince Noctis was the one to put up the wall, then why did he?" The Master of Military was a muscular man; not nearly as much as Gladio, but he had a few scars here and there that testified to his time on the battlefield. His question rang out through the room, ringing alarm bells in everyone's head. Including Gladio.

"Huh?!" Gladio questioned, daring the man to keep going with this train of thought. The Master took the dare.

"Why did he betray his people and use his power for Niflheim?"

"He didn't betray us!" Gladio snapped, but his voice was a far cry from what it had been earlier. Clearly, the thought cut deeper than he wanted to believe. "He wouldn't do that!"

The Master of Military persisted.

"Then why is there a wall around Gralea?"

Gladio didn't have an answer for that. No one did. A terrible silence washed over the room once again as everyone began to wonder where exactly the Prince's allegiances lay. It was during this silence, that Prompto remembered a scene from a video game that he and Noct used to play constantly. 

It was a co-op game, and in it, Prompto ended up getting captured by the enemy (another player.) They had held Prompto's character at gunpoint and instructed Noctis to hand over all of their items to save him. And despite Prompto's assurances to just let himself be killed and respawn, Noctis had complied.

Prompto had asked him later, why Noctis gave up everything just to save him. Noctis simply looked him in the eye and said:

"I don't want people to die for me."

With that memory in mind, something occurred to Prompto. It was excruciating to think about, but it could explain why Noctis would put up a wall for Niflheim. Prompto swallowed, his voice shaky. 

"Maybe they threatened Iggy?"

The whole room turned to face him, shocked, as if they'd forgotten that he was even there. It wouldn't have been hard, considering that he hadn't spoken until now. His cheeks lit up and he wanted nothing more than to run out the door, but this was important. He needed to finish his thought. 

"Noct… he would never betray his people… but if they hurt Ignis…" Prompto trailed off, but Gladio finally picked up the slack.

"He would fold. In a heartbeat." Gladio said it with a frown. Clearly, he'd realized exactly what Prompto did and he wasn't happy about it. The Master of Military didn’t seem happy about it either.

"Your king would forsake the lives of thousands for a single servant?" He sneered. Gladio looked about ready to punch the guy all the way into the bay. But before he got the chance, Prompto, of all people, spoke up.

"Ignis is more than just a servant! He and Noct are like brothers! They've been together since they were little kids! If someone that close to you was threatened, wouldn't you do whatever it takes to keep them safe?"

Out of everyone in the room, Prompto himself might've been the most startled by his sudden outburst. He hadn't expected to say much, but hearing his closest friends belittled when they weren't even around to defend themselves was just too far. It reminded him too much of how people treated him before he met Noctis. Prompto finished his impromptu speech with an awkward cough.

Unfortunately, the Master of Military seemed less than swayed.

"Not if it meant betraying my people!"

"Why you-" Gladio reared back, genuinely ready to physically fight a political officer in the middle of an emergency conference. Said political officer also prepared himself, balling his hands into fists. Prompto's fingers itched at his side, ready to summon a gun at a moment's notice if the need arose. All three men were mere seconds away from an irrevocable mistake when the Secretary's voice rang out.

"Gentlemen!" She said and though her volume couldn't even be considered "raised," the ice in her tone was enough to immediately demand everyone's attention. Prompto swallowed. He knew now why this woman was the First Secretary of Accordo. "Let us cease this foolish fighting over hypotheticals. The fact of the matter is, we do not know what became of the King and his Chamberlain. What we  _ do  _ know, is that there is an impenetrable wall around Gralea thanks to the power of the Ring. Now, it's only a matter of time before the Emperor figures out how to use the rest of the powers contained within it."

"We need a plan, one that does not involve running rear-first into enemy territory."

No one could refute the Secretary's point. As much as both Prompto and Gladio hated to admit it, they truly couldn't know if the Empire was using Noctis or if they had some other person who happened to be worthy. In that regard, Prompto's mind kept drifting to the mysterious Chancellor who always seemed to know just when their group needed help. He'd always been helpful in the past, if not sketchy as a Daemon. Prompto wondered where he had been during the attack.

The silence brought on by the Secretary's speech, as well as Prompto's thoughts, was interrupted by the door to the room creaking open. A meek-looking soldier stood in its frame, shaking under the weight of everyone's gaze.

"What is the meaning of this interruption? We're in the middle of an important meeting." The Secretary snapped. Her poise from earlier was clearly giving way to irritability. Honestly, she and everyone else in the room could've used a nap. The soldier flinched.

"S-Sorry Madam Secretary… b-but… there's someone who wants to talk to you all."

Before anyone could tell him to buzz off, the soldier stepped out of the way. The leaders of Accordo gasped. Because in his place was Ravus Nox Fleuret, the brother of Lunafreya and High Commander of the Imperial Army.

Except, he didn't look much like a High Commander.

He looked, for lack of a better description, like drowned trash. His uniform was muddy and ripped; his hair matted. His arm was missing. But above all, there was a deep look of remorse on his face that didn't quite match what Prompto and Gladio had seen of him thus far. He looked broken, or perhaps just seconds away from shattering. Still, he stood tall in front of the council.

Before anyone could shout or attack or just generally panic, Ravus spoke.

"I can help you get the Noctis back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooo- cliffhanger! I don't think it's too big of a spoiler to say that Ravus is gonna have a major part in this fic. :) Hope you liked this chapter that was more "Iggy-centric." If you did like it, then don't forget to leave kudos and comments! Honestly, comments brighten my day and they motivate me to write, so don't be shy! Thanks again for reading! I hope you have a wonderful day! :D


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